Dreams Make Miracles
by Neverstop13
Summary: All Jason's ever wanted to do since his incident was study the brain and how it worked. All Piper's ever wanted to do since she found out about her illness was find a cure to her brain cancer and fulfill her Bucket List. They know they'll need each other one way or another, but will their own dreams get in the way? They can only hope for the best and wait for a miracle. Jasper; AU
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, readers! I am so excited to be starting off this new story it has been plotting itself in my head for so long! :) I have been missing writing an only Jasper story. But I still had fun with the last one (If you want to check that out if you haven't already, it's called Going to Take Care of You). **

**Anyways, I am going to stop talking and let you read.**

**I do not own PJO.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE—THE WORST BEST DAY OF HIS LIFE

JASON

* * *

He looks up from the passenger's seat beside him, suddenly having a tugging feeling in his gut.

It wouldn't have been a problem if he didn't see the dark, shadowed outline of a person in the middle of the light.

On instinct—and he punishes himself for not _thinking_ firstly—he jerks the wheel so sharply that the car immediately turns sideways. The left-hand side turns toward the outline and he sees the ashen face of that person as they appear right in front of his window. And both of their heads crash against it, cracks split across where the impact hit, the car is still twirling.

All he hears is the loud screeching sounds from the skidding, rubber tires against the asphalt of the road.

The only thing he saw, before blackness consumes him, was a sea of different colors.

That was how the worst best day of his life started.

* * *

Jason had a strange dream the night before that. It's almost ironic, because, in that moment of his life, his studies are focusing more on dreams and how they connect to the events of a human brain.

Ever since his own incident earlier in life, that's all he's been working on. Not just dreams, but the human brain itself. At first, he had hated that it had happened to him. Making everything in his life confusing, but then he realizes that maybe God was sending him a gift—showing him that it was his destiny to research the human brain. And so he did and it opens up marvels and wonders to him. He thinks it's the most fascinating thing on earth.

But dreams, he refuses to believe. He knows they're not real. He knows it's only a figment of the imagination—it's only something a person _wants_ to believe and would like to see happen one day.

Jason _knows_ that dreams are _not real_.

He doesn't want to believe it because when he woke up—when _anyone_ wakes up—all your hopes smash back into reality and you realize how much it hurts. How much you'd rather want to never wake up again. Dreams mess up your thoughts.

Jason doesn't like to have dreams. He wishes there was a way to stop them from entering his mind. It almost worked, until that night…

_He was walking across the road, and the sun was out. He was talking on the phone, but he doesn't know to whom he was talking to. What was weird is that he didn't feel like he was in his own body; like he was seeing it from another person's eyes._

_ Suddenly, he felt bright lights on him. He looked over and there was the front of a car._

_ He swore he saw his face in the driver's seat. _

_ The car swerved. He felt his blood rush through his ears and his heart was galloping in his chest, about to burst through his skin. He dropped the phone, and the window of the driver's seat was coming closer to his face. He couldn't move—it was like his feet were glued to the road._

_ He could've looked to see who the driver was. But, instead, he screwed his eyes shut and suddenly, it felt like he had been standing in front of the path of the fastest roller coaster ever and the front of its car had slammed into him._

Then he wakes up, his back straight as he sits up in his bed.

His chest rapidly moves up and down, up and down like someone had attached a string to it and is tugging as fast as they could.

Jason tries to relax and he hunches his shoulders over a little. Then he remembers that that was bad posture and would only make him feel more claustrophobic.

He draws his knees up and lazily rests his forearms down his shins, which are hidden underneath his pajama pants. He puts his head in between his knees.

He can feel the ice cold sweat on the back of his neck and bare back, and it feels like pinpricking needles are pushing into it.

Jason breathes in deeply, and then exhales softly. He calms his heart rate and his breathing. Finally, he is back under control as he keeps telling himself: _None of it is real. Dreams aren't real. There's no reason you should be acting this way. Yeah…what's the matter with you?! It was a stupid dream! You're never going to get hit by a car! None of it makes sense…none of it makes sense…none of it's real…_

Jason knows he is right.

And he sits back up.

Some people rethink their dreams. But for him, he doesn't give another thought about it and he starts through his everyday normal routine.

He stands and does his stretches, cracking several bones at once, and awakening his muscles that had been so numb and lazy while he was asleep. He raises his hands high above his head and then he put them down. Jason rolls his shoulders and then his neck and he cracks his knuckles.

Then he turns and makes his bed, tucking the sheets nice and tight underneath his pillow. Then he fluffs his pillow, and he was about to turn away but a detail caught him: there were too many wrinkles on his pillow from where he fluffed it.

Something clutched his heart and he immediately turned back to it and fixed it. There; now it didn't look so untidy.

Then he leaves to the bathroom, bringing his selected clothes—a green t-shirt and pants—and closes the door behind him. He sets them on the counter beside the sink and he leans against the edge of the counter, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

His bright blue eyes shine back at him. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side as he runs a hand through his hair. Jason likes his blonde military haircut because it is easier and cleaner to deal with. And he likes how it didn't touch his ears because that would be a distraction.

His mouth is pressed into a firm line, not frowning but not smiling either. He has pale freckles, barely even noticeable, that dots his cheeks. His sister has them, too.

Jason turns away from the mirror and takes off his clothes and steps into the shower. He _never_ took long showers. They take up more of his time and it is a stupid and wasted way to do that. He had more important things to do—like writing theories on the brain and catching up in his studies. Not standing in stale water and thinking about every other thing.

Just wash and get out, was his rule. No thinking—just _do_.

So that's why almost fifteen minutes later, he steps back out and proceeds to dry off with his blue-and-white striped towel. He dresses in the clothes set out next to the sink.

An emerald green shirt and pants, which he wraps a belt around his firm waist because it would be another distraction if he has loose pants. During his studies, he could never have _any_ distraction.

He brushes back his hair and walks out of the bathroom and to the kitchen where he eats his Frosted Flakes cereal.

Jason's studies are at a University, where he studies the works of the human brain. He stays there practically all day, working and taking notes and leading classes every now and then. His favorite, though, is writing equations down. But if he gets really emotional, and has an episode where a flashback will hit him so hard he falls backwards in his chair, he'll start thinking about his own incident.

He shakes his head while rubbing his forehead. He would rather not like to have one of those episodes now.

Jason hurries over to his desk, where papers are stacked neatly and in order. He wipes his knuckle at his nose before picking up the papers and sliding them into folders and placing them in his bag along with his laptop.

A strand of his hair tumbles onto his forehead and he can feel it tickle his eyebrow so he reaches up and brushes it out of the way. Just as he zips up his bag, his phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket and he takes it out to see his friend's face plastered on the screen: wide brown eyes and insanely curly hair.

Jason sighs and rolls his eyes but he still unlocks his phone to answer the call. He puts it to his ear and answers as he grips his bag and takes it off the chair, "Leo, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me while I'm at work?"

"You're not at work yet," his friend responds.

Jason narrows his eyes at the ground, stopping, and then blinks. "How do you know that?" He questions as if making his friend, Leo, second-guess himself.

"Because it's not seven-thirty in the morning yet," Leo says as if it's obvious. "You literally walk through the door then."

"So? You don't get to the office until hours later because you're that lazy," Jason continues out the door, carrying his bag and light jacket with him. "How would you still know that I—"

"Because I know you, Jason," Leo says, but Jason wasn't done.

"—am there? Only if you were at the office to specifically confirm it—"

"Jason!" Leo yells into the phone. "Come back down to earth,"

He rolls his eyes as he shuts his door behind him, the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder. "I am on earth, Leo. It's called gravity."

He hears Leo give a small sigh on the other line. "It's an expression,"

Jason chuckles, "Well I know that, Leo." He shakes his head and walks up to the elevator in his apartment building. "Why are you calling me anyways?"

"I'm calling to tell you that your cat is annoying me."

Jason blinks. "Um…say that again?"

"You heard me,"

"Where are you?"

"Dude, just get out here," Leo says bluntly and then he hangs up.

Jason is confused, but guesses that Leo's waiting for him outside, so he turns off his phone and puts it into his pocket. As he waits patiently in the elevator, he readjusts the strap that was digging into his neck. The bizarre music plays throughout the chrome silver of the elevator. There's a new song every day, and him and his always-thinking brain always connect dots to figure out what the song is and wonder if it may be not be a coincidence it's on. But then the part of him that was wounded by his incident—the one that had forgotten almost all of who he was—told himself that it's always a coincidence. There's no such thing as fate.

He clears his throat even though it's dry and he shakes his head. He has to rid the thoughts out of him, or else he'll have another "episode". He didn't like those, even if it's just a flicker of who he once was.

Jason was scared to bring the memories. He wasn't sure of what they would bring.

Before his thoughts could travel any further, the elevator made a beeping noise as the doors slide open.

He steps out and dips his head, looking both ways and scanning the lobby for Leo. Jason finally spots him outside the building behind the double doors. He was wearing his usual attire: a white button-down shirt tucked underneath suspenders and into beige trousers that slightly hug his legs. Leo is leaning forward, gesturing out his hands to something very small. Jason figures it's the cat he was talking about. Leo's mouth is moving like he's talking to this animal, but Jason can't hear it since he's outside.

He makes his way to those doors, but then a voice halts him:

"You have to sign out," says a morose voice.

Jason straightens and looks over at the person sitting at the lobby desk. Though he can't see his face because there is a book in the way; a book with a boy with black hair standing in water and holding a sword.

"Excuse me?" Jason asks.

The man puts down the book, his thumbs still wedged in between the pages to hold open where he stopped at, and he looks at Jason with tired eyes like he hadn't gotten sleep the night before. "It's a new policy," he explains in the same monotone voice, "So we can keep track of those in the building."

Jason nods and then steps up to the desk where there is a clipboard with a roster pinned to it. He takes a nearby pen and prints his name that is scribbly and messy, due to late nights when furiously writing equations and theories.

The man watches him for a few seconds and then when Jason sets the pen down, he puts up his book and continues reading.

Jason falters, wondering if he will say anything else to him, but he doesn't, so he just walks off, leaving the desk clerk to his book.

When he exits the building, the nature air surrounds him with a light morning breeze. The sky is a calm blue and the sun is slowly rising behind the other buildings. He approaches Leo, and is about to greet him, but then he catches something in the corner of his eye. He looks down to find that there is, indeed, a cat sitting on the sidewalk.

"See?" Leo asked as he pointed to it. "I told you,"

"Hey, buddy," Jason says under his breath as he leans down in front of the gray cat. It's skinny and you can see the ridges underneath its thin skin where its ribs are at. Jason can't help but stare at it with pity.

It meows and purrs as it steps forward and stretches upward to rub its forehead against his palm.

He sighs and then twists his bag around and rummages through it. It reaches forward and sniffs it, but he lightly pushes its face away from it. He takes out a bag of Lucky Charms and he gives a couple of the pieces to the cat, who thinks it looks like cat food and gladly obliges to eating.

"Seriously," Leo said, "Lucky Charms?"

Jason looks up at him over his shoulder.

Leo puts his hands up in defense. "Totally normal; I get it,"

Jason turns back to the cat and realizes that its face is buried into the bag and eating some of the cereal on its own. He finds that the quantity has reached half of the bag already, so he lightly nudges the cat away. "I'm sorry; I'll come back with more later."

It looks up at him with big eyes, pouting, and gives a soft _Mew_.

He presses his lips together. "No," then he stands up and the cat bumps its head against his shin.

"Looks like you've got a new friend," Leo snickers.

"More like a new beggar,"

"Aw, don't be so harsh. You know, I've never seen you with a pet before," Leo claps a hand on Jason's shoulder. "You know, what is up with you and cereal…?" Leo's voice trails off, as if its traveling down a dark tunnel further and further away from Jason.

Jason blinks. _Pets? _Has he ever had a pet before? He thought about all kinds of animals and all his mind could set on was two large dogs, like Great Danes. One with fur like silver-gray and the other was golden blonde. He can imagine _not_ petting them, as if they were only guards, not something you can love on like the cat.

He looks down at it, but it's gone, where its shabby tail has disappeared in the bushes. Did he used to have pets—before his incident? And if so, why didn't he love on them as much as he treated that cat?

"Hey, man," Leo's voice was now loud and clear, bringing him back. "You okay?"

Jason looks down at Leo whose brown eyes are narrowed in concern. He knows that a new door of his old past was opened up to him.

"Listen—" Leo tries to start.

"No," Jason shakes his head numbly. "It's okay; what were you saying?"

"What did you remember?"

Jason sighs. If Leo wants something, he wouldn't quit until he got it. "Just…two great big dogs,"

"Oh, so you _did_ have pets," Leo remarks in astonishment.

"No," He shakes his head again as if trying to bring the memory back. When he realizes what he's doing, he stops. He doesn't want his past back, even if they were just dogs. "They weren't _pets_. They were trained to be something more; listen, I don't want to talk about it—" before he could continue on, the tip of his nose starts to tickle and he can feel his sinuses flare up. He takes a deep breath, whips his head in the other direction, and sneezes into his elbow.

Leo takes a step back and shrugs. "Hey, on the bright side, maybe you're allergic,"

Jason wipes his face with a Kleenex he pulled from a neatly folded pile in his pocket and shoots Leo a look.

"I'm just sayin',"

"Why are you _really_ here?" Jason asks as he throws away the used tissue.

"Well, my car broke down," Leo says and he shrugs an arm towards a truck with smoke coming out of its back end. "'Ole Argo broke down on me again,"

"I still don't understand why you call your car the Argo II," Jason says as they step off the sidewalk and approach his beaten-up truck.

"Because it's like a war machine, duh," Leo replies.

"Oh, yeah? Then explain your working table you named Buford."

"Hey," Leo points a finger at him. "Don't make fun of Buford."

Jason gives him a look. "He's just a table, not a personification."

"He finds that offensive,"

Jason rolls his eyes and then they stop when they're standing a few feet away from Argo II. Jason shrugs. "You're a major in mechanics. Why can't you fix it yourself?"

"Well, I have a free day today—no classes to teach, so I was wondering if we could hook her up to your truck and then I could fix her at the university," Leo explains.

Leo is like Jason, a professor at the university. While Jason teaches psychology, Leo is in mechanics, which isn't the most popular class ever, but it seems to fit him. Because there aren't that many students, most of his days are free periods, where he spends his free time working on his newest projects.

"And maybe Beckendorf could come by and help me," Leo adds on as he rummages through his toolboxes in the backseat, searching for a chain.

"I thought you said Beckendorf was in the hospital," Jason stares at him.

The mechanic shakes his head. "He just got out a couple days ago." He latches the connecter to the back of Jason's blue truck and to the front of Leo's. "He said that the doctors had kept his hands away from any type of explosive machinery, and he's been dying to hang out with me because of it," he laughs.

Jason laughs too, but then his thoughts blurt out of his mouth. "But how could they keep him away from machinery? He's around his own heart monitor, right?"

"Yeah, but that's not necessarily explosive," Leo then straightens after he double checks that the chain isn't loose. He looks at Jason. "Ready?"

"Ready as you are," Jason replies and he hops into the driver's seat of his truck. The door on the other side opens and Leo climbs in. Jason turns the key into the ignition and the engine rumbles but then purrs.

"Ah, I see someone has their car in great shape," Leo hangs his arm out the window and pats the door of the blue truck.

Jason sighs and smiles proudly. "Well, I am healthy person, which means I keep Tempest healthy,"

Leo blinks and narrows his eyes, mumbling softly, "Tempest?" And then the thought comes to him and he throws his pointer finger and yells at Jason, "Aha!"

Jason laughs out loud as he pulls out of the parking space of his apartment building.

* * *

His pencil taps repeatedly on his desk, like a rhythm that is the only thing that can keep his mind on track.

His hypothesis stares right back at him, making his brain thump in thought, equations and possibilities and tests searching through his mind.

Jason sighs and rubs his lips with the palm of his hand.

_If a person can dream_…he writes…_then it—_

He immediately scribbles it out. Ridiculous.

But Jason can't help it. He feels the beginning of that sentence repeat and echo through his head.

_"If a person can dream…."_

A person can't dream.

_"You did."_

Shut up.

He slams his palms against the desk, silencing the air around him. Yes, he did have a dream, and that dream ruined his life—his old life. There is an inner battle gnawing inside of him. It is hard to keep the thoughts intact when they are always coming free and roaming to new ideas, new memories.

He stands from his wooden chair and walks to one of his bookshelves of his large classroom, the auditorium of seats surrounding him, and slips out a giant textbook. He flips through it, to the page he had marked with a sticky note because he had looked at these exact words possibly thousands of times.

"The brain can turn your reality into a dream." It read.

So that means that he had a reality before his crash, before his incident. This means that he had a life, but it was taken away from him. This means that his dream repeated that life while he was out, injured in a hospital.

"Dreams can also relate to your memories, which are stored in the hippocampus region. If that region is damaged, you won't be able to form new memories."

Was that part of his brain damaged? Was it affecting him now? No, because he could remember what he did yesterday. He could remember the things he liked; he could remember things from before. So what was wrong with him? Why is this only a problem for him?

"The brain dreams and thinks from recent memories,"

What was recent for him? He wanted to believe that these were good memories, but he knows that they're not. He knows because they were taken away from him.

He blinks hard. He has to stop thinking like this. It hurts his brain all the time because he doesn't know where he belongs. He doesn't know if he has people that actually care about him from his other life.

He closes the book with his shaking hands. He straightens and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Jason knows that if he gets too deep in thought about this, somehow a memory will come up. He's been trying to restrain that, as if he doesn't want to see them. As if he's waiting for something new to happen to him.

But an image flickers behind his eyelids. Before his brain could decipher and focus on the concept of it, his eyes fly open and his chest is rising and falling quickly and he glances his glowing blue eyes around the classroom.

He only has a couple light switches on, so shadows hang in the corners, and all the desks are empty. Except for one. There's a girl sitting in one of them, her dark brown hair travels down her shoulders and her brown eyes are stern. She wears a light purple dress, her back straight as it touches her chair.

Jason could've sworn that seat was unoccupied a couple seconds ago.

He could've sworn he was alone just a couple seconds ago.

She sees him looking at her. "Well?" she says, though her voice sounds lost in the background of his mind. "Are you ready?"

"What?" he asks.

"You heard me," she said. "You know what I'm talking about,"

He narrows his eyes at her. "What—who are you?"

"You already know who I am." she stands, her spine still straight.

"How do you know that?" he counters, his voice hoarse and terrified.

"Because you remember," she says. "You just won't allow yourself to." Then she turns and walks swiftly out of the classroom.

Jason is left standing there lost in thought, dumbstruck, in awe. What had just happened? Where had she come from? He stares at the ground, breathing heavily to catch his breath.

Suddenly his feet are moving and now he's running out the door and searches down the hallways frantically. But there's no one there. She couldn't have possibly walked that fast.

He walks down both ends of the hallway, looking down the other corridor it's connected to, but still finds no one. He rubs his head as he walks back into his room and then sinks into his chair, his eyes are screwed shut.

Jason hopes—that on top of losing his memory and fighting with his own thoughts—he _really_ hopes that he isn't diagnosed with schizophrenia.

* * *

After he finishes up grading essays, he stands from his desk, stretching. He had told himself that the girl wasn't real, but he knows that he can't keep that excuse up for long. He just needs to be calm, and maybe she was real, but just only mysterious.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out the rest of the bag of Lucky Charms. He slips some into his mouth and is glad he had pulled out a marshmellow piece, because they are his favorite.

He wanders over to the large window on the other side of the room and pulls open the blinds. He expects blinding sunlight to pour in, but that's not the case. It's dark outside and the only light coming in is the washing silver of the full moon. Is it already the nighttime? That can't be right, because it's only felt like a few hours.

He checks the time on his computer and it is, indeed, six at night. It's time to go home. He searches out the window again to find that Leo's truck is gone, so he must've fixed it and already went home. He clarifies this when he checks his phone and finds that Leo texted him: _Going home, weirdo. C u 2morrow._

Jason isn't offended by the "weirdo" remark; he actually chuckles before he locks his phone and puts it away. He figures now is a good time to leave, since his work is done for the day and he's all prepared for the class tomorrow.

He turns off his computer and straightens the essays and papers as it's shutting down. He slips the laptop into his bag and throws the empty bag that used to contain Lucky Charms away in his waste bin.

Before Jason steps out the door, he looks back into the room. His eyes search it, but they always go back to that one seat. It's as if he's making sure she won't show up again. She doesn't, and that makes him pleased when he turns the lights off and continues home in his blue truck.

* * *

PIPER

* * *

She lets her door slam behind her as she walks into her morose apartment, dark and silent in the night. Her braids swing around her face as she lets her bag drop to the floor, not caring if it spills open and now her phone was on the floor. She doesn't want any contact with anyone tonight; she just wants to be alone.

She wants to wallow in her own sadness, she wants to cry and bawl until she has no water left in her body and she can die already. She wants to hole herself up in her room and wither in the shadowed corners.

Although she's strong, so she can fight it. If she could fight through boyfriends and jobs and life, then she sure as hell can fight through this.

But just one night is all she needs. She may be strong, but that can't stop the tears or the wanting to cry.

So she steps around her couch, her fingers sliding against its back, and she goes to her room in the short hallway. She doesn't bother turning on the light, because there is no hope in her life right now. She instead immediately slips off her shirt and puts on a bigger one that used to be her dad's. Then she changes into warm sweatpants that make her feel warm and cozy. She bends her knee as if about to climb into her nice bed, but then a braid gets in her face, the hardness of the wristband bumping against her nose.

She sighs, blowing it out of her face, before turning back and going into the bathroom. This time, she does flip on the light switch. She has to see what she's doing.

She scoffs. "See what's she's doing"—_ha_. She has no clue what she's doing, and has no idea what in the world she's going to do now that she knows. Now that she knows her life is limited.

Her fingers weave as she untangles one braid, the band setting on the edge of the sink. She moves onto the next one.

But she can't move on. There is no way she could ever move on from this. It's a disease, and the cure is hard to get. And the only thing she or it could ever do was continue to grow and grow until there's nowhere else for it to go and her entire brain is consumed with it.

She takes out another braid.

And then, eventually, it will give out. The disease will have won, and her brain and body will be too tired to function properly.

Another braid is out.

What did she do to deserve this?

The last braid.

Her last days on earth. She didn't even get to do everything she has always wanted to do. She hasn't met the right man; she hasn't lived her entire life.

A sharp pain stabs at her head and she blinks hard, a jolt being sent right through her body, and she halts. The air around her is silent. It was almost as if she could feel it inside of her.

She realizes it wasn't because of the cancer. But because she had yanked on her hair too hard without even realizing it.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, and when she opens them, her sight is still blurry and swims a little bit. Her hand jerks out and clutches the side of the sink to make her stand straight and so that she doesn't throw up.

The nausea subsides and she's finally able to stand upright, but she still clutches the sink.

She takes another deep breath.

"Calm yourself, Piper," she tells herself.

She stays there for a couple seconds, taking it in. But soon, the more she thinks about the situation she's in, the more she wants to curl up in a ball and fall asleep. With this new thought, she feels her eyelids grow heavy and her shoulders sigh with exhaustion.

Piper turns and leaves her bathroom with slightly curly hair and turns off the light, her entire apartment a shade of midnight blue with only the silver stars. She keeps walking in the direction she's always known until her palms press against her soft mattress. Piper collapses onto her own bed and pulls up her warm and thick blanket, her body curling into a ball, closing tightly around, and her head resting on her soft blue pillow. She has done something different, she realizes and she looks up to find that she had positioned herself upside-down than normal: where her head usually is, is where her feet are—vice versa.

Piper sighs and doesn't think this really matters. She's comfortable, anyway, and that's all she wants right now. So she lays her head back on the pillow, shrugging the blanket closer up to her face.

Behind her closed eyelids, a memory from earlier that day flickers and plays through her head:

_Stunned silence overwhelmed her. What was she supposed to say? How could someone react to that? Her hands wrung together in her lap, and her mouth is cold because it was hanging open, the cold air of the hospital entering._

_ Piper had only gone for one day, and she got the worst news. She had thrown up and then passed out when eating lunch with her friend, and the next thing she knew, she was laying in a hospital bed. A few days later, she was promised she could go home soon._

_ But she's not home. She's sitting in bed, being told that there's something bad inside of her. Something not normal. _

_ She has cancer—in the one place that will take away all of her memories._

_ What? No, she thinks. No! _

_ Her memories are too special. Sure, she doesn't have that many pleasures and joys in her life, but there are those moments where she feels special. She'd like to keep those in mind. Like the time her father and she had that picnic because she had gotten her first real job. Or the time when she first met her best friend, Hazel. Or even that one time she had her first kiss._

_ Piper felt confusion puzzle her. What did she do to deserve this? How did she get this? What could have possibly happened?_

_ But then she felt so much anger, she felt as though she could explode. Exactly—why her?! Why? Why did she have to be stuck with this?_

_ And then she felt futile; hopeless. She had gotten this, she couldn't change that, but was there a cure for it? Could she erase it? _

_ The doctor in front of her seemed to know what she was thinking when she looked up at him with wide eyes._

_ "We could run some tests," he explained, unclasping his hands to gesture. "There is a cure. It's called chemotherapy and it uses a surgery called radiation therapy." _

_ Piper had no idea what those words meant. As long as he knew that it could help her._

_ She nodded._

_ He tilted his head down to her, looking over his glasses. "You are okay with doing this?" he asked her._

_ She nodded again._

_ He nodded once. "I will sign you in for it, Ms. McLean," He was about to turn and leave, but then she shot out and clamped her hand on his arm to stop him._

_ "Will it—will it hurt?" she asked, her breath coming out quickly._

_ "No necessarily. It depends on what kind you have,"_

_ "What kind do I have?" _

_ "We will take more tests tomorrow." He said. "But for now you should stay here and have some bed rest—"_

_ "No," she said, "I don't want to stay here. Let me go home. Just for one night, before I have to be here every day."_

_ He sighed, staring at her as if trying to decide if he could let her do this or not. But then he blinked and nodded. "Okay. But we have to start soon before the cancer spreads. I will schedule an appointment for tomorrow at noon."_

_ She took in a deep breath. "Thank you," she said._

_ He put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said, "we will get you through this."_

_ Piper stared at him in his green eyes. She hoped she could, but she wasn't sure if she could believe it._

The memory went away as she felt tears slip out from underneath her screwed eyelids and she reaches up to wipe them away. She licks her lips, her chin puckering from her trying to stop it from wobbling because of the lump in her throat. She will not cry. There was no reason to cry.

Piper tries to shake off the feeling in her head. She tries to make the headache subside from her brain, and as she thinks of that, a shiver goes down her spine. She tries closing her eyes, but the cancer in her head is like a monster under her bed. She knows it was lingering there, hiding, waiting for her to step out from the shadows so it can catch her.

The only difference is that her cancer has already caught her. It's already taken a hold on her memories. But those are not for sale. They are hers, and no disease will ever take that away from her. She will not allow that.

She closes her eyes, letting the darkness in her room ease into her, and as she falls asleep, she dreams about that memory with her dad.

* * *

Piper's eyes blink open that next day. She instinctively thinks about her dad, Tristan McLean, just to check and see if she still has her memories. Thankfully, nothing seems to be missing, if that's even something she can tell, and she sits up in bed. She wipes at her mouth, blinking her eyes open even more to try and focus past the blurriness.

Through her lacey-white curtains, sunshine pours in and she stretches her back, feeling and hearing multiple places in her spine pop and crack. She pulls back her blanket and gets out of bed, feeling more rested than she ever has. It's odd because with her illness, she thought she would've had an antsy sleep.

Then she sees what time it is: _ten-thirty!_

A gasp and a curse flies from her mouth and she runs to the bathroom, turning on the water, and then sprinting back to her room to get a random pair of jeans and a shirt.

Her first step to her cure, and she's almost late! She can't believe it as she hurries to get ready.

* * *

_Jason looked over at the passenger's seat next to him. That little cat was in his truck for some reason. It clawed at the window, as if trying to get out. It made white marks on the glass and screeching sounds that made him cringe._

_ "Hey—!" He cried out._

_ The cat meowed in a growl. He pounded his fist against the controls next to him and the passenger's seat window dropped downwards and the cat jumped out._

_ Before he could finish a threat, he looked up and found that he hadn't been watching where he was driving. There was a person in the middle of the street. _

_ He jerked at the wheel. _

_ The sound of his tires screeched beneath him, making his body shiver._

_ BAM!_

Jason screams as he sits up in bed.

He pants with his scream beginning to die in distraught. His nerves are flaring, and he glances around, the nightmare still haunting him. It is the same one from the night before, he realizes.

He shakes his head. He will not let a stupid dream haunt him like that. He just needs a shower.

Unfortunately, the dream is haunting him. Jason realizes that the dream kept him asleep longer and it is almost noon.

He is way past late, and so he ignores the missed phone calls from Leo and hurries into the bathroom.

* * *

Piper sits in her hospital room, her hair wet around her shoulders that are covered with a light sweater jacket. Her hands wring together in her lap, just like they did the day before. She had just taken a scan of her brain, she can't remember what they had called it, but she doesn't care. She just wants results.

The doctor finally comes in and he has slick black papers in his hands. Piper straightens as he clips them up to a white box on the wall and he flips on a light that shows her it is some sort of X-Ray of her brain.

"Well, Piper," he says as he studies the X-Ray.

"What is it?" she asks.

He points to a spot on the picture of her brain, and something in her own head tingles. "That's where the cancer is at. It's right next to your hippocampus."

Piper makes a strangled noise. "You mean a Greek mythology seahorse is in my head?"

He can't help it when the laugh escapes his mouth. "Well, no, but that's where the name comes from because that part of your brain is shaped like a seahorse."

"Oh," she draws in a deep breath. "For a second there, I thought there was another abnormal thing in my head,"

He also can't help the grin. "You know, you're taking this lighter than I thought you would."

She shrugs. "I guess it's better than going at it hopelessly,"

He nods and then turns back to the X-Ray. "It looks like, for now, it's Grade Two."

"What does that mean?" Piper asks.

"It means that the cells in your brain are starting to not look normal." He points to a couple of black dots clouding one side of the X-Ray. "And, in this condition, it looks like it's getting worse than I had thought."

Piper winces. That doesn't sound good.

"When do I start the…uh," she blinks, trying to remember the word.

"The chemotherapy?" The doctor finishes for her.

She nods. "Yes, that,"

"Well, to stop it from growing further, I would like to start the diagnosis in a couple days at the most." He says, "I would like to keep you here so that I can keep a close eye on it. I am not confidently sure on whether or not it is spreading yet."

"Um, I'm sorry to stop you again," Piper says nervously, "but do you think I can come back again then? I would like to talk to my dad, first. Spend a while with him before then."

He purses his lips, but nods. "Of course,"

She nods again, her hands shaking at the thought of telling her father that she is sick. It makes her feel even sicker.

The doctor pats her shoulder and then walks out of the room.

Piper sits there for a while, letting it sink in. This is actually happening to her. Never, in her life, would she think that she would be in this situation. She never imagined it would end like this. She takes a deep breath and stands, her heart pounding so hard her sternum hurts. Her nerves are shaking like they just can't handle moving, and her hands are shaking like crazy.

"Stop it!" She hisses to herself as she clenches her fingers and stuffs them into her pockets.

She walks out of the room, the weight of her phone making her pocket warm and heavier. Piper doesn't want to do it, but at the same time, she feels like a little girl again and wants to spend the day with her daddy, where he was the only hero—not like the Greek movies he's in—and can scare away the monsters. But she knows that there is no way possible he can scare away the monsters in her head.

* * *

"No," Jason tells the cat as it jumps into his truck when he opens the door. He points a finger at it and then jerks it the other way, motioning for it to get out of the truck. "You get out. I am agitated enough—I don't need you to make it worse."

It meows at him and then collapses onto the leather passenger seat and rubs its face all over it.

"Aw, come on!" he groans, letting his hand down. "You're getting fur everywhere!"

It just purrs in response.

He groans again and curses. He reaches under the backseat and pats the ground for a while until his hands land on a towel. He brings it out, shakes it, and then moves the cat to put the towel under it so it doesn't leave behind fur on the once-clean seat. He reminds himself he'll have to clean it off later.

He then sits behind the wheel and drives off. He doesn't really care, for once, if he's going over the speed limit because he's late to the university. He may not have a class today, but it means less time on his studies, and that is probably the most precious part of him every day.

Jason's hair was a mess. Honestly, it was so unruly and sticking up in such wild places, it looks as if he had just gotten out of bed instead of the shower. And his shower took not even five minutes. The water was cold. He didn't even feel it because the shower was so quick. And he was out of Lucky Charms. He had to settle for Cheerios, which aren't nearly as great and delicious as marshmallows.

Jason presses his foot farther down on the pedal. The truck eases faster, and he is nervous that he will miss something important. His hands tap against the wheel.

The cat beside him sits up and its purr is gone. It lifts its nose in the air, sniffing it.

"What?" Jason demands.

The cat doesn't respond. It suddenly  
looks around, its ears perked up.

Jason doesn't notice as he leans forward in his seat, looking back to see if anyone is in the next lane before he puts on his turn signal. They are passing through the city where the buildings looming above them are slowly approaching and then leaving his truck.

The cat senses something wrong. It knows that danger is lurking around this man. It turns to the window and scratches at it, wanting to get out.

"Seriously?!" Jason explodes at it. "You demand to stay in my truck, and now you want out?!"

It meows in a growl and continues scratching.

Jason curses as white scratch marks appear on the glass. He growls and then pounds his fist on the door beside him, letting the window down. "That's it," he says, "I should've never fed you."

The cat responds by rearing up its haunches and leaping out the window.

"Yeah, nice to meet you, too!" he calls after it.

Jason finally looks up and realizes too late. With a jolt, he sees a girl walking out in front of the car. He exclaims out to move, and on instinct, he jerks the wheel to the right. And then his dream became reality.

* * *

The phone shakes against Piper's ear. After multiple tries, she was finally able to dial the right number, her trembling finger having pressed the wrong number in those failed times. It now rings, and as she waits for the light to change so she can cross the road, she plans on what to say to him. She wonders what he will think, what he will say.

"Hey," her father's voice says.

She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by him.

"You've reached Tristan McLean's phone," his machine that imitates his voice now says to her. "Sorry I couldn't answer, I'm probably very busy, but please leave a message at the beep and I will try to get back to you."

She groans softly and her heart weighed down in her chest. She hated that machine, because it just didn't feel like him. Its voice was too monotone-like.

But now what was worse was that Piper wasn't able to tell it to his face. She only had about ten or twenty seconds to explain to her dad something was wrong. And he was probably so busy with his next big film, he may not answer back. She had to say what was most important.

There was a long beep, telling her to speak now or forever hold her peace.

Piper took in another deep breath.

"Hey, dad," she started off. "It's me, Piper. Um, sorry to interrupt you or whatever you're doing," she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and glances around her. Everything around her looks so normal: the buildings are still tall, the cars still move, the lights still turn green, the sky is still blue. She feels as though she's the only thing that has something wrong with her.

"Listen, there's something really important I have to tell you." She croaks through the lump in her throat. "I know you're busy, and I haven't talked to you in years, but this time…I really need you, dad. I'm scared." Piper chokes out a sob.

The light turns red and allows the pedestrians to cross the road. But she is the only one there, so she quickly walks along the painted-white path of the road.

"Dad, I have brain cancer," she finally tells him.

Before she can continue on, though, there is a loud screeching noise, like the rubber of tires trying to halt too quickly. Her mouth is open, and she thinks that maybe she even screamed along with the terrifying noise.

She gasps so sharply that it catches in her throat and she looks over to find a blue truck speeding toward her. It swerves and jerks to the side, the driver's seat coming up to meet her. She could keep her eyes open and see who the person in the truck is, but she doesn't. She squeezes her eyes shut and the phone slips from her hand.

Her feet won't move. She doesn't know why.

Before her thoughts could continue rushing with intensity, something hard cracks against her head, and all blackness consumes her.

To make sure she will remember him, her last thought is her dad.

* * *

**Thank you for reading our very first chapter! I would like to add on that this story will be a very long, nice, and plot-twisting journey. I hope you are up for it and excited to follow, because if you are, please do! And please review if you enjoyed this! :)**


	2. There is No Pain

CHAPTER TWO—THERE IS NO PAIN

PIPER

* * *

"Everything is going to be okay," the woman with a big, blurry face tells Piper.

She doesn't remember anything. She can't recall what happened to her. She doesn't know who is by her side, or where she is, but she can assume in her distorted thoughts that she has been submitted into her hospital. Though, she still doesn't know why. She can't feel any pain. In fact, she can't feel anything at all. Her body is so numb, she only feels like a floating head—a head that feels fuzzy, like her vision. She can't seem to understand or process where she is, and her vision blacks out every once in a while so it makes it more confusing.

She's lying on something moving fast. She knows because she can feel the bile in her throat—the result of motion sickness.

There are people running around frantically around her. But they just look like pale blue figures.

Piper opens her mouth to respond to the woman that is trying to assure her—but she knows nothing is okay; she knows that because of the muffled screams of the people around her—but can't seem to find her tongue. The words will not speak from her lips.

Piper suddenly realizes how hard it is to even breathe. Every time she tries, a pressing, clouded feeling pushes against her lungs, like they will not allow her to talk. Like each breath causes a pain, even though it doesn't feel like pain.

Her head flops over, her cheek pressing against something soft beneath her, though it also feels wet and sticky. Is her hair wet?

All of those thoughts abandon her when her eyes fall on something moving next to her. It is a metal, mobilized bed. What was that called again? She strains to remember…

_A gurney_, a something in the back of her head whispers. Her own thoughts seemed like they were far off.

Piper suddenly chokes on air.

The people rushing around her go wild. They shout orders, but she can't hear them. It's still a blur; indistinctive. But she doesn't care. Her mind is focused on one thing in particular at the moment, and she doesn't know why.

There is a person in the moving bed next to her.

A man—and he looks _so_ familiar, but a stranger at the same time. Like someone she had seen in a dream once.

His eyes are closed deeply, almost sunken into his face. He's pale, but there is a lot of red trailing down his forehead. Blood.

_Oh my god_, she thinks in horror.

She wants to turn away, but her neck feels paralyzed. She can't move.

Suddenly, the man's eyes snap open. They are startlingly blue. At the same time his eyes open, a gasp is sharply pulled from his mouth. He stares at her, and she doesn't know what to do.

"I'm so-sorry," he croaks. She can barely hear him, due to her mind still fuzzy and his voice low. But she can hear the last part he says: "Piper."

She can't think about how he, a stranger, knew her name because a wave a nausea followed by a consuming darkness envelopes her, trapping her, and the blurry world in her eyes is gone, just as his is too.

* * *

When Piper opened her eyes, she wasn't moving. The bed she was lying on kept still in one room. The walls weren't blurring past her, making her vision swim even more. No, everything was still and calm in the night. The walls had the shadows of the night sky fall upon it. The only thing that was moving rapidly was her heart pounding inside of her chest.

There was that woman by her bed again. She was inserting something in a plastic tube in her forearm with a syringe needle. A couple seconds after she did that, Piper could feel a sort of liquid rush through her vein. It made her stomach cringe.

The nurse must've not seen her open her eyes. Piper stared at the nurse. Everything was  
still confusion to her and her eyelids were growing heavy. Her breathing was shallow, her heart starting to slow down. Her brain felt as though someone took an eraser and wiped it clean. She couldn't remember much of what had happened, but she still knew her name and where she was from.

Something tugged at her memory.

She blinked.

Piper knew there was something she was trying to remember.

The nurse finally looked over at her and gave her a warm smile. "Everything is going to be okay," she repeated, like she thought Piper hadn't heard her the first time.

_Yeah, right_, Piper wanted to say but her mouth still felt like it was empty. Like she didn't have a tongue, and her teeth were too big. So big that they felt heavy and her mouth pounded numbly.

She was able to mumble something. She tried to say, "What happened?"

To the nurse, it probably sounded like, "Whaaudd hapffendddederr…?"

But she just smiled at Piper. "You need rest,"

Just as she said the last word, her eyelids grew so heavy she had no choice but to close them. Her heart rested in her chest as she fell into sleep.

* * *

"Don't be afraid," he said.

His blue eyes stared at her, assuring her, calming her, and she knew everything was going to be okay.

"We're going to fix this. Together."

She nodded at the stranger-but-familiar man. But in this dream, his face was clear of injury, his blond hair close-cropped, but shorter around the ears, as if he were in the military. He had a faint scar on his lip.

"Okay. Together,"

He held out his hand to her. "Do you trust me?"

He was a stranger. She shouldn't trust him. She didn't even know him. And for all she knew, he was probably the reason she was in the hospital now.

"Yes," she said.

* * *

Piper was wrenched from her dream by the wave of pain that crashed into her so suddenly. A gasp was torn from her mouth as she sat up. She groaned in pain, and her fingers clenched tightly together.

The knot of hot pain spread through her head, like sharp needles were protruding from her brain. As she sat up, a fiercer pain shot up her spine and neck, making her fall back onto her bed.

Her cheeks were suddenly wet. She touched them with the only hand that could move and then looked at the pads of her fingers to find clear liquid. Tears; she was crying. Her stomach pulled forward with the urge to sob, but she didn't. She gasped sharply and tried to stifle her screams since it was still in the dead of night and she didn't want to wake anyone else up.

But just as she intended that, a nurse came rushing in. It was the same one from before.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Piper cried. "It—it hurts!"

"It's okay, Miss, I'll just give you another dose of pain reliever." She said, giving Piper a square look, and then she pulled out another syringe needle from the pocket of her shirt and tapped it with her knuckle. Then she slipped the needle into the plastic tube connected to a bag that was high up on a metal rack, and the bag was connected to the IV in her forearm.

Piper could've seen herself cringe again when she felt the fluid run through her, but somehow it was soothing this time. It was cool in her veins—that thought made her screw her eyes shut and her legs feel like noodles. Soon, the feeling was gone and she opened her eyes again.

She didn't feel _much_ better, though. She felt very weak and tired, like her bones would give out at any second. She felt so frail, like porcelain, and something alarmed her, telling her that something horrible had happened.

Piper took a deep breath, but it wasn't like before where every breath hurt. She felt as though her ribs were cracked and it stung a little, but it still traveled into her lungs and blood flow.

She touched her ribs with her right hand, but found that she couldn't. Like the bone in her shoulder was stuck in place and wouldn't allow to be moved ever again. With a pinch of frantic, she looked at her arm. It was wrapped into a sling.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at her the nurse. Her forehead hurt because of her eyebrows rising to her hairline. "Wh-where am I?"

Even her voice sounded weak, like her vocal cords shut down with the rest of her body.

The nurse tilted her head forward, looking at her from underneath her tiny, smooth brown eyebrows. "You're in a hospital, Miss,"

"My name is Piper," She immediately countered with a croak.

Her eyebrows rested above her eyelashes again; as in relief as she sat down in a wheelie chair beside the bed. "And that's how I know you haven't lost your memory." She pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth curving upwards.

Piper gritted her teeth together. But that hurt her sore gums, making them snap back open. This woman wasn't telling her much answers—the ones that she needed _now_. "Why am I here?"

Then the thought occurred to her so suddenly. Her cancer—was that why? It couldn't be, because then why is her _entire_ body hurting?

The woman opened her mouth, but no words came out. She blinked, as if wondering how to put the situation into words. She reached forward and rested her hand on Piper's arm, which felt like it was deeply bruised when she touched it, but Piper didn't let her see that.

Her eyes met hers. They were a deep brown, full of concern and help. "You were in an accident."

She blinked and her brow furrowed. _I was? _She couldn't remember much of it, except about a phone call and blue eyes.

Blue eyes. Where had she seen those?

The woman continued. "You were hit and submitted into the hospital a few days ago. We thought you two had slipped into a coma, but thankfully you didn't."

"Two?"

The woman nodded over past Piper.

She looked over on her left side to find that she wasn't the only bed-ridden patient in the room. It was a man with blond hair and pale skin. He had gauze wrapped around his head and a blooming patch of red was bleeding through one part of it. But on that spot, it looked as though a bandage was on it, too. His right foot was in a cast and his left arm was in a sling, resting over his torso. His eyes were closed, but she already knew who he was. It was the man in the hallway.

"Did he…is he the one who hit me?"

"Yes," the nurse said.

Piper pressed her lips together and her chest rattled. She wanted to cry and hurt him, but a part of her wouldn't allow it. He was already hurt enough—they both were.

"According to the evidence, you were walking from the hospital and on the phone. He ran the red light and he tried to stop it when he saw you, but…" she trailed off.

But he still hit you, she didn't say. But it still happened. But it didn't work. But it didn't stop in time.

Piper still stared at the man. He looked so calm but weak at the same time.

"What about me?"

"Pardon?"

Piper finally took her eyes away from him and looked at her nurse. "My injuries."

"Hm…" the nurse rolled away in the chair and took the clipboard off of the end of the bed. Her eyes kept traveling down the paper and each time they did, her frown seemed to deepen further into her cheeks. "Well, a concussion, a couple broken bones, cracked ribs, and…brain cancer. But that was pre-accident."

Suddenly, Piper's senses floated back into her. She could feel her injuries and what they left behind. She felt the itchy gauze that was covering her hair, wrapped around her head. She touched it with her left hand, her free hand. Her right hand was one of the broken bones in a sling that wrapped around her shoulder. A couple of her fingers also had small casts on them on the same hand. With her free hand, she lightly pressed her fingers to her middle area, touching her ribs and the air around her felt dense.

She took her fingers off. She couldn't risk messing with her ribs. The thought made her sicker than thinking about the medicine flowing through her IV tube.

"D-did it affect the…cancer?" she had to whisper the word. She couldn't bear to remember that.

Then it all crushed on her at once. Along with these injuries, this accident, this near-death, near-loss experience, she had _cancer_. Brain cancer. She felt like the situation was more futile than it was before. How could she ever get through this?

"Fortunately, no," The nurse responded and Piper felt like all the injuries and scars had melted off of her in relief.

But then again, that didn't mean it was gone. The cancer was still there. She still had to battle it.

She sunk further back into the white polyester pillows. A wool blanket was draped over her thighs. For the situation she was in, she was pretty comfortable. She had a feeling this was the most situated she was ever going to get.

"Before you rest," the woman said, "I would like to ask you a couple questions. To make sure you're all right."

Piper was exhausted from this short conversation, when she didn't even move. Though the pain has numbed down, she wanted to rest. A part of her wanted to be assured in that dream again. She then told herself that that is not right since the man in that dream was a stranger…the stranger in the bed across the room from her. Nonetheless, she nodded, urging the nurse to continue.

"How are you feeling?"

Piper gave the woman a sideways look, thinking _What kind of a stupid question is that?_ She immediately stopped the thought because she knew it isn't her fault.

But the nurse caught her look. "I know, I know, stupid question right? I mean, you're sitting here all battered up and hurt, it's pretty obvious what you're feeling. But at least you could be comfortable, in a way, right?"

Piper was a little shocked. It was like she had read her mind. She nodded, murmuring, "Yeah,"

The nurse gave her a warm smile. "Is there anything you remember from the accident? Anything bothering you?"

Piper tried to think back, but it was like the memory was blocked from her mind. "I don't remember much about the accident."

She looked a little worried when she said that. But the nurse cleared her throat and said, "Then what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

The name came from her lips before she had thought of it. Before she'd seen the familiar face. "My dad."

The nurse smiled. "That's nice. Is there anything you need?"

"Sleep."

The nurse then laughed. "You sound like my son in the mornings,"

Piper couldn't help but give a small smile. The bed may have been comfy, but having the most genuine nurse was even more comforting.

She patted Piper's arm. "Get some rest. The doctor will talk to you tomorrow about your treatment. And if you ever need me, my name is Patti."

Piper nodded and she left the room.

She took a minute to lie there, taking in her situation, taking in all that has happened so far. It almost seemed impossible, but somehow it was true. Unless she was dreaming. A part of her wished it was only a dream.

Piper leaned her head back against the pillow, cool against her neck, and she closed her eyes. She just needed to calm down. Somehow, with the breathing body of the man beside her, she had hope that they could get through this. But that was a slim chance.

She decided not to think of it now. It was too much for her to bear at a time like this. She could feel her broken arm rest on her stomach, and that made her ribs feel more fragile so she slightly nudged it onto the part of the bed beside her body.

Once she knew she was comfortable enough to sleep, she closed her eyes and waited for the slumber to come to her exhausted mind.

Before she could, she heard a mumbling next to her.

With curiosity, she cracked open her eyes and looked over. The man that was unconscious had been trying to say something in his sleep.

She stared at him for a little while longer, and he didn't wake up. But he kept mumbling. Finally, she turned back to her original position and closed her eyes, telling herself that there was no way possible he was trying to talk to her again.

* * *

JASON

* * *

"Are you sure you can do this?"

She looked up at him with such worry, such concern. For some reason, he couldn't blame her. He was nervous about this, too. Her eyes twinkled under bright, fluorescent lights as she lay on the platform table.

"Of course. This is exactly why I've been researching and studying it for years. Don't worry."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I believe you."

"As you should," He smiled.

Then he set to work, making sure to keep his hands from shaking.

* * *

Something sharp stabbed Jason's forehead. It made his hairline prickle with intensity. He caused his eyes to fly open—interrupting his dream—and his jaw to drop, but no sound coming out.

A woman gasped in shock. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were awake…you have a bad wound—"

He wouldn't listen.

His memories flooded back into him. He was in another accident.

_Oh, god_, Jason thought. _It's happening again. No, no, no…_

She reached out to touch the spot on his head again. The one that caused a jolt of pain to go through him. The one that, in contact, felt like the sharpest blade was digging into it.

He jerked out his arm that was attached to a fist and he absentmindedly harshly pushed her hand away, causing her to be more shocked.

"Get away from me!" he shouted. He wouldn't take this again. He was strong enough. He wouldn't let his life get taken away from him again.

But she didn't. She stood from her chair, but didn't leave. "Sir, please stay calm—"

"No! You don't know who I am! You can't—" He tried to sit up to stand, but a sudden wave of nausea passed over him like a thick cloud. It made his throat close up and his gag reflexes flare due to the bile. He felt sick and a throbbing ache rested on the backs of his eyes.

His tongue felt like cotton as he tried to speak, "I have to…I have to get out of here…"

"Sir, you are in no health to be exited from the hospital." The nurse said with her voice firm with discipline.

"I don't…I don't care!" He tried to swing his leg over the side of the bed, but found that he couldn't. His foot felt as heavy as his head on his shoulders. His body ached, but he told himself to get through it. He just had to look as if he was fine and they would let him go…But his leg. Oh, dear God, his leg hurt _so_ badly! There was no way possible he could ever move it.

The nurse lightly pushed back on his shoulder, which cringed in pain, but his mind was too fuzzy for him to comprehend how his body was reacting. While he still kept thinking about leaving, he was physical lying back into the pillows willingly. He sunk into them and let his foot rest. The ache eased off as much as it could on his leg.

"Please cooperate, sir, we're trying the best we can."

"I have to get out of here! I don't want to lose everything again!"

"Will you _calm down_?" A new voice said beside him.

Jason looked over to find that he and the nurse weren't the only ones in the room. There was another occupied bed, one with a very pretty girl on it. She was doodling on a piece of paper with her free hand—the other also in a sling—and not looking at him, but her frown was hard.

Something about that voice.

He stared at her.

Her eyes finally averted up to him.

Something about her eyes.

Had he seen her before?

"Calm down." She repeated. "Go back to sleep, you idiot."

"Yes, ma'am," his tongue babbled out.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her paper, staring at it and doodling on the corners with a morose look in her bright eyes.

The nurse said something to him but he didn't realize it. His attention was on that girl.

Unfortunately, blackness was creeping up on the edges of his vision and he felt his eyelids drooping, his eyebrows arching. He wanted his eyes open; he had no time for sleep.

"Sleep tight," someone said. He wasn't sure if it was the nurse or that girl, but it seemed to speak his brain into slipping into a confused slumber.

* * *

Jason briefly woke up for what seemed like each minute.

But he knew better, even if pain killers were numbing down his thoughts. It was probably every couple of hours though it seemed like after a while of closing his eyes, he'd open them up again to another distraction.

The first time the light of the hospital flooded his vision, his forehead felt strangely cold as well. He saw a blurry figure in front of him so he blinked to help make it sharper. It was the same nurse and she had a tray lying on the bed next to Jason with a scroll of clean gauze and bandages, scissors, wet towels, and a strip of gauze and bandage—each with a large area of blood on it. He guessed it was his own.

The nurse suddenly realized he was awake when she finally looked up at him.

"What are you—?" he tried to ask, but she cut him off by gently shushing him.

"Don't talk, only rest. I'm just changing your bandage."

"My…?" he mumbled and smacked his dry and cracked lips. He had no idea what she was talking about and his thoughts were too drugged to try to understand it.

"You hit your head in the accident and had a wound on your forehead. I'm changing it, now _shh_."

He closed his mouth and he fought to keep his eyes open to watch what she was doing. He found that some thoughts of correcting her movement slipping into his mind without him even knowing he was doing it.

Jason watched her every move. A part of him wanted to make sure she was doing it right, and the other was of interest.

But when she pressed the new bandage to the injury, he blacked out again.

* * *

Jason had a strange dream about sleeping under a waterfall. It was a blissful moment until he began choking.

And then woke up. The nurse was sipping water into his mouth, but when he was taken from the dream, he spit it up.

She didn't say anything. She only went immediately into action and stood, walking across the room to a cabinet and took out a roll of paper towels. She came back over and wiped up the water on the sheets and the extra on his face and mint-green hospital gown. He felt a little bad that he was causing such a mess just because he couldn't gather his thoughts.

She set the paper cup on the dresser next to his bed. His eyes followed her movement, but then he stopped and looked at the bed beside him. The girl was still there, lying in the bed, but her head was turned the opposite way from him, her hair spread out over the pillow.

He stared at her for a while, and then fell asleep without knowing it.

* * *

Day two here.

Jason knew this because the next time he woke up there was moonlight shining through the window. The rest of the room was dark, but the hallway outside was dimly lit.

The nurse wasn't here. That made him relieved because then she couldn't put more pain relievers on him. Because of this, he could feel his mind becoming normal as if he were opening his own eyes. And his vision felt normal, too. His entire being felt normal again except for the fact of knowing where he was and what had happened to him and the pain that settled into his body like a weight.

But he took the pain. It wasn't that big of a deal; only temporary. It would go away, he told himself. He lived up to that like an oath.

He looked down at his own body, taking in what was different. His left arm was in a sling. His right foot was in a cast already—he didn't remember how they got _that_ on him. He had bruises all over his body and his torso was thrumming with a low pain from the weight of his broken arm. He slid it off, clenching his teeth, and rested it on the bed beside him.

He let out a silent sigh. It felt good now.

Jason began to think about how long he'd really been here. He thought it was only day two, but he'd been knocked out for quite a while. Maybe it had been a week? He wasn't sure, it was hard to tell.

His eyes traveled around their room. It was a normal room, nothing special. Just like any hospital. But something was different.

Her.

That girl.

Who was she?

He desperately wanted to know.

Jason looked over at her. She was sound asleep on her bed. Her face was straight up, her lips parted a little, and her body limp. She looked so rested that it was almost as though all her bones had melted.

He felt the corners of his mouth go down in thought.

Jason knew he had seen her recently, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. All he remembered was that he had been in a crash. Maybe she was a witness and had gotten hit by a piece of debris? He already felt sympathy to her if that was the case.

He wondered how he would get out of this. He wondered what Leo was doing, if he knew about what happened or not.

Jason turned his head and stared out the window, where the moon was full and big. It was so huge, like it was dangling right outside his window. That window put a comfort of ease in him because it reminded him that he couldn't be locked in here forever, that at some point, he could go back out to that world—a world where there was life and he could gain back his.

That ease made some of his pain leave his body. And with the pain away, he felt sleep approach him again. He was getting a little tired of being asleep—with no pun intended. He knew that he'd been out for too long and needed to be awake.

Nonetheless, he fell back into the darkness.

* * *

She was shaking him awake.

He knew this because he could hear her voice before his eyes saw her.

The word blurted from his mouth as he was lured from his sleep: "What!"

"_It's all your fault!_" She screamed at him. "You made _everything_ worse!"

Her fingers gripped his arm, putting marks into his skin because of her fingernails. Her hair was hanging around her face in slightly messy and greasy strands and tears streaked her cheeks. She looked angry and sad, like she'd given up or something. Like she was truly afraid.

"What are you talking about?!" He shouted back.

"You were there! You just had to look at the road—you couldn't even do that?! You came into my crapped-up life and crapped it up even more!"

Jason was utterly confused. He did _nothing_ to her and had no idea why she was blaming him. He didn't even know who she was.

Until he saw her face again. He recognized it—he _knew_ he did.

He had always known her.

She was that face by his window. She was that figure in the middle of the lights of his truck. It was _her_.

Guilt crashed down on him so hard as if someone had held a bucket of ice cold water above him and decided to let it go. His heart and breath paused for a moment because even his own thoughts couldn't comprehend it.

He had hit her. It was his fault for all of this.

She let go of him, but instead of leaving his side, she took her palm and slapped it against his cheek.

Jason sat there, more shocked than ever, and his cheek stinging. His jaw had dropped a little.

She choked out a sob and then pressed her hands to her mouth, sobbing into them as a nurse ran in.

"What is going on here?" The nurse cried.

The girl kept crying into her hands.

Jason had to do something. He had to say something. Or else he couldn't live with himself. Actually, he already couldn't—he could hardly breathe—but the least he could do was let her know that the accident wasn't exactly something he intended or could control. Or meant to have happened to her "crapped-up" life.

His brow knitted and he looked at the girl.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice deep with the guilt and regret that was inside of him.

She looked back at him, and she almost seemed to be expecting him to say something else. What more could he say? But she stopped crying, and her face said it all: There was nothing else he could do. Not now.

She looked as though she wanted nothing to do with him.

The nurse approached them and murmured, "C'mon, let's get some fresh air," then she took something behind the girl.

Jason suddenly realized that she was sitting in a wheelchair. Had she gone somewhere else inside the hospital? One of her ankles had a cast on it as well, but he wasn't sure if that was why she had left momentarily.

She kept his eyes, her hands still pressed to her mouth, until her back was turned to him.

Once they left, he realized he was alone. He felt so alone. Empty. He finally released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. His breaths quickened and were loud, as if he couldn't get enough and needed more. He screwed his eyes shut and raised his free hand to his face and gripped his hair and tugged on it.

She didn't know it, but Jason did.

His life was now crapped-up, too.

And it was all because of that stupid cat.

* * *

PIPER

* * *

Piper had every right to do what she did.

Here's what happened.

It had been two weeks since she first woke up. Since she was wheeled into the hospital and the man that got them into this mess in the first place said her name. They had been here for two weeks, and the whole time all she could do was sit there and sleep, drink, eat, use the restroom, and think. It was agonizing, thinking about her cancer. Thinking about how long it'll be until it eats all of her cells up. She constantly thought about death, and it put a strange stench in the air that made her sick, and wondered if she was ever going to come out of this _okay_.

Throughout that time, the doctor hadn't mentioned anything about it. All he said was to take care of her broken bones in the meantime.

Whenever she'd ask about the cancer, it was the same answer every time:

"Well, we'll get to that sooner or later."

It was much past later. It could make a patient go insane. She figured that yes, maybe he did have other patients to worry about, but they were all patients. They all needed his guidance. Taking care of her broken bones wasn't guidance because she already knew to do that!

Until, finally, one day Patti came up to her and said that they would like to take another MRI—which was to take a picture of her brain.

_Finally!_ She thought as she felt relieved, in a way. Finally, they were getting to the real problem at hand.

With Patti's help, she had climbed out of the bed and moved into a wheelchair that was locked in place beside it. The last time she had been in a wheelchair, she had gotten her appendix removed in eighth grade. It didn't rupture, but it still hurt with the scar still lining her belly button and lower abdomen.

Patti had to take the needle out of her IV tube and though she didn't feel anything at all, she looked away from it. Needles were not her favorite—not at _all_.

Piper had stolen a last look at the man with no name; just a face and a pair of brilliant blue eyes to her. He was fast asleep in his bed with purple rings under his eyes and hollow places under his cheekbones. He hadn't eaten much food physically; it was mostly just through the IV bag. That made a part of her worried.

But then Patti turned her wheelchair out of the room and pushed her down the hallway. It was weird and _freezing cold_. She was glad for the wool blanket that wrapped around her waist and rested across her thighs and down to her ankles. That would've been embarrassing if everyone passing by them could look up or at the back of her open gown. Seriously, hospitals needed some better clothing.

Piper found that her hands were shaking. She had to wring them into the little holes of the blanket to try and stop them, but they didn't. And she was sure they weren't shaking because it was cold. She couldn't see inside her head, and didn't know if the accident could've hurt it or not—she didn't know anything about medicine or how the human brain worked.

Finally, they stopped outside a room and Piper had to wait for another nurse to come. Patti walked away, saying she had other patients to help, but that she'll be back to make sure Piper was okay.

And then she waited outside the door for what seemed like hours. She wished her dad was sitting on the bench across the blue-walled hallway with white-tiled floors. She could almost imagine him there, stressed like he gets before a big movie production or going on the red carpet. He can't sleep, with bags under his eyes and his sleeves of his _old_ button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair a mess, absent of hair products.

But that was the version of her dad she liked best—the one that was completely the opposite of a big-time movie star. It was the one that no one ever saw except for her because she was about the only one to calm him down.

She was about the only one he had left.

And he was the only dad she had.

In her mind, they made a perfect, father-and-daughter match. But Hollywood keeps putting their bright lights on the picture, turning it into something it never was.

These thoughts go through her mind as she sits in the wheelchair. Soon, her rear starts to go numb because wheelchairs may be fun to ride in, but they're not the most comfortable for long periods of time. She shifts, but it's difficult due to the broken leg and arm.

Suddenly a new nurse approaches her and gives her a bright smile. "Hello, Miss McLean, how are you feeling?"

Piper winced. This woman made her feel like she was senile. "Um…good," she responded and with her good hand, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's good to hear. I'm Christina, and right now we're just going to let you take an MRI and see what's going on inside that pretty head of yours." She gave another bright smile.

Piper already didn't like this woman. This had just made it worse. Nonetheless, she gave a polite but wryly smile and said through gritted teeth, "Wonderful,"

Christina didn't seem to notice the abhor expression that Piper felt for her. She took the handles of Piper's wheelchair and wheeled her into the door she had been sitting at.

The room inside was very spacious, but dark, so it was hard to see and shadows hung in the corners. But once Christina flipped on the lights, it looked like an ordinary hospital room except with the giant beige cylinder that sat in front of her. It had an open space in the middle where there was a table. Piper guessed that was the MRI scanner.

She blinked. It almost reminded her of the giant neuralyzer in Men in Black III, where they go back in time and Will Smith's character is about to get his memory erased in it.

Piper _really_ hoped she didn't have to go in that.

Christina seemed to realize her fear and her laugh ringed as it bounced off the specially-clean walls. "Oh, don't worry, it won't hurt."

_That's what they all say_, Piper thought.

The woman helped her wobble out of the wheelchair and sit on the table that had moved out of the cylinder so she could lie down on it. She then laid back and put her feet up on the table. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest.

"Do you have any type of metal or jewelry on you?" Christina asked from somewhere in front of her. Piper guessed she was poking around with the machine.

Piper shook her head and said in a small voice, "No,"

"Good," another famous blinding smile. "Don't be alarmed, but you will move in about three…two…one…"

The table beneath her moved forward and it made her heart jolt out of her rib cage. The table kept moving into the cylinder until she was completely inside. There were some lights on inside it.

"Are you still okay?"

Piper nodded, sucking in air and gulping in. She was so nervous. "Never better,"

"You're such a trooper!" Christina beamed, and Piper was glad she didn't have to see it. "I'll be in the other room and you just relax and keep still. It's going to make some frightening noises, but nothing bad is going to happen. Okay?"

"Okay," Piper responded. She may have been scared because of this giant machine, but another part of her was curious about what was going to happen.

This was just like with her appendix. She didn't want it to rupture and was so scared that she might die—even though it's the slightest possibility—but she was also curious to go through the experience. This was like that same situation, except this time, she really could die.

The inside of the machine whirred, and it almost sounded like a beast coming to life. Red lights flashed, making her heart pound faster—which she was sure was almost impossible—and want to close her eyes, but she didn't want to risk moving so she just stared a spot on the ceiling where there were no red lights.

With the thought of the movie, Men in Black III, she kept all of her most precious memories and thoughts together. She thought about her name, where she was from, about her dad and how much she missed him. What he looked like. She was surprised when the thought of the blue-eyed man slipped into her thoughts.

About a minute later, she came back out.

"How was that? Not too bad, right?" Christina asked her.

Piper closed her eyes before she could see the smile.

"Piece of cake," she said.

* * *

Piper's heart frowned when the doctor walked in with a troubled expression. With a frown. With the bad news.

But she straightened just a little bit, because although her ribs hadn't been hurting as much, but she knew they were still weak. She tightened the fingers of her good hand into a fist underneath the wool blanket.

He didn't have the scans with him this time. She wondered if it was that bad.

He put his hands in his white-coat pockets and stared at her, shifting his feet.

"How bad is it?"

He dipped his head, staring at his shoes. "It has gotten worse than before. It's spread."

Piper had to part her lips a little bit to let the air enter her body so it could reach her lungs, though she still felt like she wasn't breathing. Her whole body goes numb like it did when she was first here and she feels light-headed. She straightens back more and breathes deeply, telling herself to be calm. Telling herself that there _is_ a way. There has to be.

"However," he says and he slips his hands from his pockets and clasps them together, pressing his knuckles to his lips. He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed of the vacant room they're in.

Piper hadn't wanted to talk about this in her room where that man was. She didn't want him to know. She didn't want him to listen.

He was still talking. "I don't think it was caused by the accident. It's possible that head trauma accidents can affect brain cancer, but it only shows in a matter of months. This is weeks—days. It's very unlikely it was because of the accident."

"So then what was it?" Piper stared at the floor, and didn't apologize nor regret the bitter tone in her voice.

"I'd say it was because you weren't on treatment just yet. That could be one of the many causes."

Piper frowned.

"There's nothing different you could've done. This happens to a lot of people."

"That doesn't make it any better," she said.

He didn't say anything for a while. He had probably been through multiple patients like this, and that was what they always said. He was probably used to this. She was just one patient. Just another surgery.

"We should start treatment very soon. I will check up with you on it later." He said and then made his way to the door.

Piper purses her lips and glares at the floor. She suddenly can't stand to be in this hospital anymore.

"Hey," he said.

She looked up at him to find that he had stopped by the doorway, holding the door open with his shoe.

"You're lucky you're alive. Most people don't get a second chance like this. You should be grateful you're still here on this earth. A couple injuries and cancer is better than not being here at all."

"Is it?" the question immediately blurted from her mouth.

"That's for you to find out." He responded then he walked away.

The door slowly shut and softly clicked into place.

She had asked that question, but that's not how she felt. She should be grateful she was here, but why wasn't she? And she wondered if that doctor had said that to every patient. Her entire being said no because she had seen sorrow in his eyes, a look of loss. She wasn't just another surgery. She was a life, and she knew that he and every other doctor fought to save it even if it only meant one person they had never met before.

That thought made her think of the man that got her here. That blue-eyed man.

Before her thoughts could continue, the door opened and Patti walked in with a natural smile. Not forced, like Christina's and Piper was glad to see it, but it didn't make all of her problems go away.

Patti wheeled her back down the cold hallway. Piper didn't let her realize that she was about to break down.

Her fingers still twisted in that hole in the wool blanket. After a while, her hands started to shake, so she let go. They still shook. She couldn't stop it and when she took a deep breath, her chest rattled. Her chin wobbled. _I will not cry, I will not cry_, she told herself_. Don't you dare cry._

She wasn't sure if people were staring at her because she kept her eyes on the tiles that passed beneath her. How fast they moved on. She wished she could move on from this. She wished she could just let go.

But she couldn't. She was _stuck_. Piper didn't know if she would ever be free again.

And all because of that man. That man! Some stranger that just couldn't watch where he was going!

Anger surged through her and she clenched her fist again. Her breaths came out heavier, deeper, faster and it made her nostrils flare. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks.

Piper wasn't sure what happened. She just…lost it. She let go—in a way she probably would regret later on. But she didn't take it back now. No, he deserved it. He did this to her. He's the reason they're there. He may not be the reason for her cancer, but he's the reason it got worst. He delayed her treatment, he took a part of her away. Piper didn't think she could ever forgive him.

But…there was one thing.

He said he was sorry.

He said he was

_Sorry_.

So sorry.

Like in the hallway.

He said it like he meant it. Like he knew how she felt. Like he couldn't believe he had done it, either. He had said it with direct contact and hadn't hidden like a coward.

When Patti wheeled her out, all she could feel was nothing. Not _empty_ nothing, but almost a _complete_ nothing. Like all the pain had gone. With that one sentence that had spoken everyday words but meant something beyond its meaning. It had taken some of her pain away. It made her feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. Of some sort.

But a part of her couldn't forgive him. Not now. Not yet.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it and I apologize for the wait for this chapter, I got a little held up in...well, life.**

**I hope you had an awesome Halloween! (Savor the candy, it makes things better on a bad dayXD) **

**And who else is excited for Thor 2 coming out? I AM! I'm seeing the first showing premiere tomorrow night and am super psyched! **

**I do not own PJO.**

**Please review if you liked this chapter:)**


	3. Open Hearts

CHAPTER THREE—OPEN HEARTS

PIPER

* * *

Piper didn't even bother to watch where Patti was directing her wheelchair.

She was so shaken up, so wallowed in her silent tears that she couldn't even lift her head up. All Piper could do was press her hand to her mouth so hard that she could feel the ridges of her teeth through her lips; her hands were wet with her cries as they slipped down her cheeks.

She could feel the cold air of the hospital breeze past her bare arms as the wheelchair kept moving. Her eyes were screwed shut because she couldn't bring herself to see the look of pity on the others around her.

Piper tried pushing the thought of that man out of her head. He was burned on the inside of her eyelids, his expression of guilt, regret, worry…she squeezed her eyes harder to get him out of her mind. It didn't work.

A part of her was beating herself up for it. Was it appropriate to slap him? She wasn't considered as a very violent person, only if she was standing up for something she loved. Piper told herself it was perfectly reasonable. He needed to know what he had done to her.

Her soul was tearing apart, and she can feel it spiraling down with a sickness. Piper just felt _bad_. Like the cancer wasn't just invading her mind, but her entire body.

Suddenly, the wheelchair stopped. The breeze wasn't brushing her arms and so she opened her eyes, having to blink out the tears so it didn't make the image blurry. She opened her mouth a little, looking around and wondering why Patti had brought her here.

They were in another spacious room. But there was no big, scary machinery in it. It was all normal—not even a computer. All of the tables and shelves were carved in delicate wood; there were probably about five tables, but ten medium-sized shelves. Stacked with different kinds of spines—leather, colorful, golden-rimmed—were books. Dozens and dozens of old books.

Piper sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, then swiped her fingers over her cheeks. "Why—why have you brought me here?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Listen, Miss," Patti said as she pulled up a nearby chair and sat in front of Piper and hugged her. "I know things are hard,"

Piper had heard this story many times. Things will be hard but everything will be okay. It may seem difficult now but you'll get through it. You're just not thinking clearly; you're stressed.

She shook her head against Patti. "Please don't give me this crap."

Patti pulled back and frowned at her. "Hear me out," she said softly.

Piper stared at her blue eyes with the laugh lines on their edges. She sniffed again, her eyes watering up, and nodded.

"Miss," she said, "it's quite obvious that you're going to be here for quite some time. You're hurt badly, I understand that, but you can't get mad at everyone for it. You must learn to be patient or else you're going to stress yourself out."

Piper cried out a sob and pressed her fingers to her eyes, closing them. Patti was right, but a part of her just didn't want to believe it. Maybe it really was the stress that was freaking her out like this.

Patti smiled a little, as if amused, and pulled Piper's hand away from her face. "There's no reason to be crying, Miss,"

Piper couldn't help it though. She sounded as if she was laughing, but tears were pouring from her eyelids. Her voice cracked as she said, "Yes, there is! I'm in this mess and—"

"Hold on, Miss, I was getting to that," Patti interrupted her calmly. She gave her an assuring smile. "Now, I'm not going to get onto you or tell anyone about you slapping the other patient, but I am going to say this: you shouldn't be mad at him."

"Why not?" Piper snapped. "He did this to me."

"And himself," Patti said. "Remember, he's in the same state as you are. The _two of you_ were in a crash. It wasn't just you."

Piper furrowed a brow. "Are you saying I'm act—acting selfish?"

"I'm saying you're not seeing the _entire_ picture." Patti said, squeezing her hand. "I want you to understand that you're not alone in this, so you don't have to act like it. And I want you to try to be in this situation with a positive attitude. I think it's time you participated in that."

Piper stared at Patti. She wasn't sure what to think or say. But she knew that she was right. When Patti said that, she could feel a part of her grow sick of crying and complaining and being angry. She wasn't naturally an angry person, like she said before.

"Will you promise me you'll keep an open heart?" Patti asked.

Piper couldn't deny that Patti was starting to grow on her. Piper started to feel a sense of comfort around her. She nodded.

"Okay," she gave Piper another bright smile and released her hand. "I bet you're wondering why I brought you to the hospital library,"

Piper's hand felt cold now, but she used it to wipe the remainder of tears on her cheeks away, even though they were starting to dry. "The hospital has a library? I didn't think it did…"

"Well, we do," Patti said.

"What do you want me to do here?"

"Have an open heart." Patti smiles. "I just figured that this would be a good place for you to…escape. Get your mind off of your injuries,"

Piper shook her head. "I don't deserve you being so nice to me. I was so mean earlier…"

"Well now's your chance to make it up. Listen, Miss, I want you to give him a try. He won't be so bad once he'll be like you—not as stressed." She smiled.

Piper shrugged. "I don't even know his name,"

"That's why I think it will do you good to get to know him. You might not be as mad with him if you get to know him."

"What is it?" Piper asked.

Patti blinked. "What do you mean?"

"His name," she said, "you want me to get to know him. I'll have to know his name first."

"Maybe that's something you should ask him next time," Patti said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and Piper wondered what the woman was really thinking about this.

Piper frowned. "I don't think I can even look at him again…He probably doesn't even want me near him now," she looked down at her hand.

"You won't know unless you try." Patti said as she rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "I have other patients to get to, but I'll be back in an hour or so. Just…calm down, okay?"

Piper nodded.

Patti gave her a smile and then walked out of the room.

Piper looked around for a couple seconds and took a deep breath. Patti was right. She needed to calm down. Everything will be all right. She couldn't promise she would become best friends with the man, but she guessed she could try.

She had to pull on the edges of the tables to move her wheelchair around. With her other hand broken, she couldn't navigate with the wheel on that side of her chair. It took some effort, but once she got in the aisles of shelves, it was easier to pull herself along.

There were so many books, that it still boggled her how and why a hospital could've gotten their hands on this. She let her fingers go over all of the spines as she read the titles. There were adventurous, romance, and even Greek mythology.

But, for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to open a book and read. Her mind kept wandering back to that man. And then she kept thinking about her injuries and cancer. She wheeled around aimlessly before finally managing to settle at one of the tables.

Piper sighed and sat back in her chair.

_Could_ she move on? Was there any way possible her and that man could be even friends? Could she stand being in the same room as him?

She sighed again and put her good elbow on the table, resting her cheek on her fist. What was she to do? A part of her didn't want to be friends with him, because she was given the impression that he was reckless. But then again, he had been penitent to her, which means he knew and regretted that he had been reckless.

Maybe—just _maybe_—she would give him a chance.

_Maybe_ she would have an open heart toward him.

Piper reached forward to the center of the table where a stack of blank sheets of paper were and slipped away one sheet and placed it in front of her. Then she took a pencil from a small container and set her pencil against the paper.

Her mind went blank, just like the paper in front of her.

Piper aimlessly doodled on it. Wherever her wrist traveled, the led from the pencil did, too. She didn't realize what she had drawn until before she crumpled up the paper and threw it away—it was _him_.

She told herself that she was opening her heart _too_ much.

* * *

JASON

* * *

She was screaming.

Not in an angry way, but a pleading way. She was screaming for him to not leave her, to not do this to her, to not die. She gripped his body, which felt numb; empty. Like there was nothing else he could do. Like their world, combined, had been torn away from their grasp. And he knew that that world wasn't right or true.

But then he woke up.

* * *

Jason groaned as the sunshine made his vision brighter in comparison to the darkness of sleep. He tried sitting up, stretching, but his body was still sore. He reached with his unbroken hand and rubbed his eyes, blinking them open, waking them up so that they could get used to the light.

He suddenly remembered what had happened, and he found himself wanting to go back to the darkness. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought to himself: _She's just a girl; after this is all over, you won't see each other again._

"I highly doubt that,"

His head snapped up, his heart jolting in surprise. He hadn't realized there was another person in the room, nor did he realize that he had spoken that out loud.

It was the nurse who had wheeled the girl out of the room. She had bright eyes and a warm smile, and put him at a state of ease. He reminded himself that she was just another nurse holding him here for no reason.

"Why?" He said shortly.

The nurse shrugged. "I'm a nurse. I know how people feel after situations like these. After this, you're going to feel guilty and feel as if you owe her and you'll pay her back a favor." She was talking as she placed the tray of bandages supplies on his bed; he guessed it was time for the gauze around his head to get changed.

She continued, "You'll see her again. Trust me,"

Jason pursed his lips. "Why should I?"

She sat down in a chair beside his bed and looked up at him. "You need to lighten up—let your guard down. You're too stressed," she said. "Too organized."

"Yes, because I'm _sophisticated_." Jason said in a bitter tone. He didn't like being here or around these people. "It's who I am."

"Maybe you got in a crash to change who you are." She replied in a soft voice. "Maybe there's a reason you're going to see her again."

He made a face like there was a sour taste in his mouth. "You mean like fate?"

"Honey, fate is for those who believe in it. I'm talking about somethin called…well, sophisticated. When you're sophisticated, you need something to respond to your theories, and you need a reason for why it happened. And, let's not forget, an answer to the problem."

Jason blinked. He had never heard that before in his life, and he was about to disagree when her when he realized that she was actually right. He pressed his lips together, thinking hard. This nurse suspected that something would happen between him and the girl, when they didn't know anything about each other.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said as she slipped the gauze away from his forehead. "You're probably thinking that you don't even know her or her name. And you probably think that she hates you. But"—the nurse looked him straight in the eye—"I know that there's a part in you that feels responsible for her wounds."

He lowered his head like a dog that had eaten human food without asking first. Jason looked at her from under his blond eyebrows. His unbroken fingers rubbed on the thin sheet covering his legs and he averted his eyes to it when he couldn't take her stare any longer.

"Don't you," she insisted.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe,"

"Then take my advice," she leaned closer to him. "If you want her to know how sorry you really are, you'd be nicer to her. And allow letting her in."

Jason furrowed a brow and looked back up at her. "Letting her in? What do you mean?"

But she didn't respond as she concluded changing his bandage and then left the room with a mischievous smile.

He narrowed his eyes at the doorway that she disappeared through, wondering what the nurse was really up to.

* * *

Jason hissed through his teeth.

He had lightly pressed his fingers to his left side—barely!—and yet it still felt as if it was a poisonous knife digging into his skin. He clenched his teeth as if that would ease the pain.

He was the only one in the room. It had been at least an hour since the nurse and the girl left. He could still feel the heat on his cheek from where she slapped him.

Jason took this as a time to inspect what was going on with his body. He lifted up his _defiantly_ uncomfortable gown. It was always cold seeing how he didn't even have on underwear. Seriously! It was embarrassing, especially when he was sharing a room with a _girl!_ The nurse had told him he couldn't wear underwear yet in risk it might hurt his wounds even more, which would cause him to be more uncomfortable than he is now. But he couldn't find that possible.

He lifted it up, revealing his torso, hips, and thighs. He tried to cover up the middle of his hips in case anyone did come in unexpectedly. That would've been unexplainably embarrassing.

When the nurse had told him that he couldn't wear tight clothing because it might worsen his bruises as well, he was confused. He didn't think he would have bruises—especially not ones so bad that he couldn't even wear clothing. But now he understood what the fuss was about.

Clouding his pale skin, all around his abs, it was all yellowish-greenish. But as they moved further to his left side, they turned a deep, sickening green-and-purple. Near his hips, it turned redder, as if he had a rash. But nothing itched. It was only a numb pain, which, in this moment, he thanked for the pain killers. If the bruises felt as bad as they looked, he would feel…horribly sick.

Jason frowned at his bruises and lightly traced over them with a finger that was halfway poking out of his sling, from his broken hand. His free hand had the gown raised up. He wondered what his chest looked like—probably worse, where he could remember it being thrown against the steering wheel.

As he thought of the memory, he heard the screeching noise in his ears and screwed his eyes shut. He suspected that he wouldn't ever be able to think about the accident without it bringing back his senses from during the crash. His heart beat picked up a little in his chest, but when he breathed easily through his nose, telling himself to calm down, it slowed back to normal.

Jason opened his eyes and then continued lightly tracing over the bruises. When looking at them, he didn't even feel as if he were in his own body. If anything, he felt pity for this body, but he wouldn't ever think it was his own. He wasn't used to it. He can't remember the last time he had been this physically hurt.

He blinked. He couldn't believe he had just thought that! The last time he had been physically hurt like this, it was because the same thing had happened. He had been in an accident, kept in a coma for months, and woke up forgetting everything. He had to start over. He had to live a new life, always wondering about the person he had used to be.

Jason thought back to when the nurse had told him that maybe he had gotten in this "sophisticated" accident to change who he was. What he didn't tell her was that he had already been changed. This was the new him, there was no way he could put it back to normal. It had already happened to him.

Unless if this version of him was a version that nobody liked.

Did _he_ even like this version of himself?

What else did his life—old or new—have to offer him?

"Shh…" a whisper echoed. "Don't over-think yourself."

Jason looked up slowly. He put down the gown, recognizing the girl's voice. His eyes traveled around, searching the shadows that hung in the corner near the cabinets.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The girl stood from the chair and swiftly walked to him, her back straight. Her dark brown hair was braided down her back in a small braid. She approached him, her top lip curled upward as if trying to smile, but her head tilted up in independence.

"You shouldn't ask me that question," she said as she eased to a stop and lowered herself to sit on the edge of his bed.

He stared at her, his nerves on edge, because he had no idea where this girl had come from suddenly. She was the same girl that was in his classroom at the university the night before the crash. The one who had also disappeared like this.

"Are you even real?"

Her pointed features grimaced like it saddened her that he had to ask her or himself this question.

"It depends on who you're asking."

"Then who am I asking?"

"Yourself," she said softly and laid her hand over his. It definitely felt real enough for him. "But you're _not_ yourself anymore," she stared at their touching hands for a while, as if that was something she had missed, but then her dark brown eyes slipped up to meet his from under her elegant eyebrows. "Are you, Jason?"

He pulled away his hand. "Listen, I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but—"

"Don't worry about it." She said. "All will be okay if you let it be."

He furrowed his brow, making a face. "What are you talking about?!"

She didn't respond. She just pulled her hand back to her lap and then stood. She walked to the door, and then looked back, her braid swinging over her shoulder as she looked back at him.

"Remember to help her. You'll know how to, even if you think you don't."

Then she turned and left.

"Wait!" He called out. "Come back!"

Just then, the same nurse wheeled in the girl that he hit.

"We're right here, idiot, you don't have to yell." She snapped at him.

He closed his mouth. "I wasn't talking to you," he snarled. "I was talking to—"

Jason guessed it wouldn't be such a good idea to admit, with the nurse there, that he was seeing a girl that no one else could.

She narrowed her eyes at him and then turned away, looking down at a paper that was in her lap. The pads of her fingers squeezed against the thin sheet.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"None of your business," she replied without looking at him.

Jason crossed his arm over his sling and scoffed before saying, "Fine, then."

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. He was hoping that would lure an answer from her, but it didn't.

The nurse shot him a look as if saying: _Quit that! You're supposed to be nice to her!_

Jason shrugged, jerking his shoulders up, and then turned to the window. Everyone was telling him to help this girl—but with what? And how when she wouldn't forgive him in the first place? Jason just desperately wanted out of this place and return home.

* * *

She had been leaving the room practically every day. The nurse would always come in at the same time—noon—after lunch, and the girl would climb into her wheelchair and they'd leave the room without a word or glance to him.

And then Jason would be left in the room with nothing to do. He was starting to feel seriously bored. He just laid there and either slept on and off, or thought about random things. But sometimes those random things would lead to something he knew came from his past before his first crash.

Like rain. One day it started pouring dramatically, in buckets, and it pounded against the window. The girl had stared up at it, a little frightened, and then buried herself in her book. But he found it comforting, in a way.

Or the color purple. A new nurse had once come in, wearing purple scrubs, and all Jason could do was stare at it.

Anyways, every time the girl left, she'd be gone for the room about an hour or two. Then she'd come back, and not talk to him again—which wasn't surprising. The first few times she only came back with paper that had been doodled or written on. But after while, she started having books. The same book for a couple weeks and then there would be a different book every couple of days.

Jason still pondered on where she was going. Maybe there was a library somewhere? He wasn't sure. Maybe a couple times he'd think about asking her, but then he'd realize that she was buried in the book, and thought it would be best not to disturb her.

His body was healing. He could feel it. He could feel the pain easing away, the lessening of his drooping eyelids, which meant that the doctors were leaning off of the pain killers.

Another thing he noticed was that the girl was taking an interest in hats. She wore beanies, mostly. Jason guessed she was that cold that she felt the need to wear them. But what was weird was that she hid her hair underneath them, so from a glance, it almost looked like she didn't have any hair at all.

They still didn't talk.

Only once did they actually speak words to each other, but it was only a bickering mood.

He had asked her to change the channel on the TV that they had to share. And she had declared without telling him that she would be in charge of the remote.

Even when he asked politely, she responded, "No," and continued watching the show that was on.

He had sighed indignantly and then turned his head to look the opposite way from her and out the window. The sky had been a gray color that day and it was chilly outside, but not enough to see your breath in the air in front of you. It was also rainy, so it would've been a good day for him if the girl hadn't ruined it by not changing a simple channel!

He still didn't know her name. He considered asking her, and even had the whole speech planned in his head: _"Hey, so since it looks like we're going to be stuck in this room for a while, wouldn't it be only reasonable to know each other? I'm Jason Grace, and you are…?"_

Then Jason would look at her, opening his mouth and breathing in, the words about to escape from his mouth, but then just one look at her would erase any words from his mouth or head. Jason knew immediately that if he tried to speak to her, his words would be jumbled up and that would be extremely embarrassing.

Okay, okay, he had to admit it. She was pretty. Her eyes seemed to mix with emotions while she read. Her body was tiny, probably because neither of them had eaten real food yet. Just crackers, water, and the rest was inserted through the ugly little tube sticking from his forearm.

She may have looked tiny, and she may have broken bones, but she looked naturally pretty. Even if she hadn't taken a shower in weeks.

He always ended up forcing himself to look away from her so he didn't look like an idiot.

But the nurse seemed to catch his looks at the girl. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason swore he could see her try to hide her smirk behind the stupid gauze for his head.

After a while, he didn't need that anymore. All that was left on his head was a small scar. It added to the one on his lip.

Jason insisted that he was feeling fine and could easily walk and talk and sit up…unfortunately, whenever he tried, he'd always been proven wrong by falling or hissing in pain. He may feel as though he was okay, but internal body was still very weak. He mentally scolded himself for not thinking about his inner bones and muscles.

He hadn't even thought about the human brain for a while. It was quite spectacular, seeing how he was so used to his thoughts and equations being focused on that one subject. Jason also had to admit he didn't miss that, either.

He didn't miss being cramped in his classroom, alone, with only his thoughts. Sure, he liked thinking, but like the human brain needs—rest. If you over-think it, it might just go haywire.

Before, Jason had proven to himself that Einstein didn't need rest, and yet he was still the greatest scientist on earth.

Being in his hospital reminded him how much he wasn't Einstein. And it reminded him that he was hurt physically, badly, and desperately needed all the rest he could get in order to heal.

* * *

Then one day, something strange happened.

He had woken up _outside of the room_.

He woken up to an old man sitting in a wheelchair across from him, staring at Jason.

Jason gasped, a strangled noise coming out of his mouth as he jumped. His nerves flared, his heart thumping and his blood rushing. Where was he?!

There was a hearty chuckle nearby.

Jason looked over to see that a man with darker skin was sitting in a wheelchair to Jason's left. "See? I told you, Maurice, everyone's scared a you! Especially when you give 'em that sinful stare."

"Pah!" the other man, Maurice that had been staring at Jason said. Some spit flew across the table that the three of them were sitting at. "This young man's just shocked that he got the boot from his own room!"

Jason furrowed a brow, forming his lips into a small opening, but couldn't get any words out. He got kicked out? No way! He was going to have a talk with that girl. How could she be so selfish?

But he was able to say, "W-what?"

"That's right!" Maurice exclaimed.

"Will yah shut yah trap, Maurice?" Another voice, southern this time, said to Jason's right. It was a woman with a deep, raspy voice, like she was a smoker. She had wispy white hair and wrinkly skin, a hooked nose, piercing brown eyes, and a pursed mouth. Even though she had features like a hawk, she didn't sound mean. "You're scarin' the kid!" she exclaimed and thrust out a bony hand toward Jason. Her other hand held a cigarette.

"See, Joan agrees with me!" the darker-skinned man said as he gave Maurice an _I-told-you-so_ smile.

"Ah, posh. Mind your own business, Larry." Maurice said.

Jason was as confused as ever. "Can someone please explain to me where I am and why I'm here?"

"You're in the hospital, hun," Joan said as she rested her bony hand on Jason's.

Jason looked around. The walls were still pure white and the smell of medicinal supplies still lingered in the air. Nurses and doctors walked around carrying files and pens and folders. He was sitting in an area with multiple tables and multiple people in wheelchairs sitting by them, laughing and playing games like they couldn't realize that they were in a hospital.

"Well he knows that, Joan, he's been here for months now," Larry said, his gray mustache moving each time his lips did. He had a mild afro that had long since lost its color and was now drained to a gray. He reminded Jason of Morgan Freeman.

Joan shrugged, waving her cigarette around, a trail of smoke floating behind it. "Well how was I supposed ta know?" She then put the cigarette in her mouth and breathed in the smoke.

This made Jason cringe. He'd always known smoking was bad for you. He had seen pictures of smoke-filled lungs and they weren't pretty. He could understand why Joan was still in this place if she had kept up smoking her entire life.

"Listen, kid," Larry said, making Jason look over at him. He gave a warm smile. "They're all delusional; I'm the only one who still has their head on straight."

"I heard that, Larry!" Maurice yelled.

"No, you didn't, you old bat! You can't hear anythin' without that hearin' aid of yours!"

"Hey," Maurice said while spreading out his hands, "did anyone ask you for your opinion?"

Larry shook his head. He looked back at Jason. "You haven't been kicked out a your room. It's just that that pretty lady a yours is talkin' to her doctor. Private meetin',"

"Oh, thank you." Jason nodded, and he didn't even bother to correct him about that girl being "his".

Larry nodded. "You're welcome."

Jason readjusted himself in his seat. His nerves calmed down and his heartbeat returned to normal.

"Maurice, are you goin' ta move your piece or not?! We're waitin' on you, old man!"

"Huh?" Maurice cocked his ear to Larry. "Will you stop yelling at me?! I'm trying to concentrate on the game! It's your move, Joan!"

"What was that?" Joan asked as she took the cigarette away from her mouth.

Larry sighed in frustration and rubbed his head.

"Don't get all snappy with me, Mr. Grumpy Pants!" Joan said as she waved her free hand at him.

Maurice moved a piece on a game of _Sorry!_

"_Maurice!_" Both Joan and Larry exclaimed.

"Did you say something?" He asked.

Jason couldn't help but chuckle behind his hand at them. He hadn't really met his grandparents, and even if he did, he doesn't remember them. The first accident had wiped his memory of them and his parents. He had no idea if he had any family.

He frowned a little at that, but then a new, familiar voice interrupted that.

"Entertaining, aren't they?"

Jason looked up to find the nurse, Patti, he had finally found out her name a couple days ago. He immediately closed himself from her, but the smile absentmindedly lingered. "Yeah,"

She returned the smile and then turned up to the three elders. "Joan, you know you're not supposed to smoke in here!" She scolded.

Joan waved a hand again. "Why not?! They're all dyin' anyway!"

Patti gave her a look that said: _Well don't say it in front of them!_

But Joan didn't see it. She turned back to her cigarette.

"Miss Patti," Larry said as he reached out for her hand. "You do this boy a favor an' get some meat on his bones. He's as skinny as a scarecrow!"

"Larry, for the last time, I do _not_ scare everyone!" Maurice insisted.

"That's not what I—oh, forget it,"

"Hey, it's not my fault I forget things."

Larry didn't answer this time. He just rubbed his temples.

But Patti laughed. "That's actually why I came here. The doctor said it was okay for Mr. Grace to try eating some real food."

"Mista Grace?" Joan echoed as she put out her cigarette. "So this boy is an Amazin' Grace?" She waved her hand at Jason, but also sent him a flirtatious look.

He chuckled sheepishly. He didn't mind her, because all he could focus on was how hungry he suddenly was. It had been forever until he had actually eaten real, good food. He was starving and excited to eat.

"Whoo-whee!" Maurice laughed. "You lucky dog, you get to eat on homemade casserole day!"

Jason grinned at the thought. Homemade casserole. Saliva started to rush into his mouth with hunger.

Larry chuckled and patted Jason's hand on the armrest of the wheelchair. "Don't get too excited, Mister, you don't wanna overdo it. I did that once," he shook his head and said, "Sure, it tasted good, but I wished it had stayed down that way."

Jason frowned. "Thank you, Larry," he said. "I'll try to remember that."

Larry nodded toward him and then smiled up at Patti, the laugh lines behind his eyes crinkling with a warmth, just like Patti's. "You take care, Miss Patti. I'll see ya later."

"Goodbye, Larry," Patti said and then suddenly Jason was moving backwards.

"Goodbye, Mista Amazin' Grace!" Joan cried as she waved her hand at him again.

Jason waved back, but then said over his shoulder as she began to wheel him back to the room, "She's always going to call me that, isn't she?"

Patti chuckled. "At least it's better than what she calls the other patients."

Jason couldn't help but smile. Then he asked, "But what about—her?" He had to pause because he had no name to put in the space. Only "her".

"Oh, Miss McLean is done talking with Dr. Peters. You may go in now."

But all Jason could worry about was one thing. "McLean? Is that her last name?"

"Yes, sir," Patti nodded her head.

"What's her first?"

"Well, you'll just have to ask her yourself. She'll need something to take her mind off things."

_Mind off things?_ Jason thought. Did that mean she was told horrible news? Was that news because he had hit her? More crushing guilt and regret fell onto his shoulders. He tried to keep the thought that he was going to be able to eat, but now it just made him a little sick.

So he kept the thought of what her name could be in his head.

* * *

Immediately when he entered the room, she sent him a glare.

He was so happy for food that he wouldn't even let that get to him. He threw up his hands. "What'd I do?!"

She pursed her lips and turned back to her book.

He sighed and then glanced uneasily to Patti. He couldn't read her expression, so he just let her help him back into his bed.

He settled into the pillows and blankets. The heavy cast on his foot was starting to make his bones feel more brittle. Was he really that weak now? He guessed so, but wasn't sure; he hadn't looked in the mirror for at least a month.

There was a knock on the door. He looked up to find another nurse carrying in a tray with a lid, hiding the casserole underneath.

Jason's stomach growled as it realized that his food had come.

It was time to eat.

He had to suppress his grin so he didn't look like a _starving_ idiot.

* * *

PIPER

* * *

Piper felt no better after her talk with Dr. Peters.

She had personally asked for the other man to be removed from the room. She didn't want him listening in, she didn't want him thinking it was all his fault that she was even sicker. Piper didn't want him to know anything about it.

She had been on the treatment for the past few weeks. When the man was sleeping, they shaved off her hair. Piper won't ever forget how she looked or felt when she stared at herself in the mirror with a bare head.

Piper couldn't say or do anything for a while. She just stared. No hair was left, no braids would be in her hair ever again, no more brushing. Just hats. Wool beanies were her favorite. She didn't want the man seeing her suddenly with a bald head. That would be embarrassing.

Then she had reached up and smoothed her fingers over her head. It was smooth and clean. Then tears started to prickle her eyes, but she blinked them back before the nurse could see it.

And then she retched into a bowl, the cancer putting in its share of symptoms.

Those were the first few bad things.

The second was when she took another scan of her brain, excited because she was on the treatment so that meant that the cancer had to have one down at least a little bit.

But then Dr. Petersons told her that it was the same. It hadn't changed; only gotten a little worse. The treatment hadn't kicked in fully yet. He had put it in some kind of metaphor: "The treatment and the cancer were almost…battling right now. It's too soon to say which one will win."

That had to be the worst thing he had ever told her.

But then again, at least it meant the treatment was trying.

Unlike her. She was slowly losing hope again. What was the point in praying for it to help her, if it turns out it hasn't even woken up yet?

And then the third bad thing was when he wheeled in again, and she had to tug her itchy wool beanie back on, smiling and happy. Nothing should be smiling and happy—especially him. Because it only made her feel worse.

Despite the glare she gave him, a part of her felt a little relieved that there was something in the room that could help take her mind off of the grief.

She decided to read while he was digging into his food. Ever since Patti had introduced her to the library, she'd buried herself there. She took her mind off things and read, taking her to a whole different world where she couldn't be bothered. Or some days she would just take out a piece of paper and draw or write or just think about things. It helped pass the time.

The man in the other bed was groaning with delight as he cut up his casserole. He stuffed whole spoonfuls into his mouth and didn't look back. He crammed more than one spoonful into his mouth before he swallowed the round before. Occasionally, he'd add in a baby carrot or two, but other than that, all he could do was chew and mumble through the cheese, "Oh, my god, this is _so good!_"

He kept complimenting on the cheese, the biscuit, the broccoli. He seemed to be in the highest of spirits.

Piper scoffed as she thought, _Lucky him_.

But just thinking about physical food made her sick to her stomach—especially casserole. Yuck. She'd rather wait until she was fully settled, and made sure of it, and eat healthy food.

Her frown deepened and she buried further into her book, trying not to pay attention to him. His sounds of fulfilled delight was bothering her.

"You wanna try?" his voice asked through the food.

She blinked, furrowing her brow, and then looked up. She blinked twice more as she realized he was looking at her.

"No," She said shortly then turned back to her book.

"Are you sure? It's really good," he insisted.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"Why are you so grumpy?" He asked as he stuffed another spoonful into his mouth.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you."

"I think I would. We're both in the same situation."

Piper shot him a glare. "Yeah, I know. I wonder why."

He sighed, setting his spoon down. He glanced up at Patti, who was setting an empty, plastic bowl by his bed. She did so swiftly, so that he couldn't see. Like she was trying not to give his hopes up.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know it's my fault we're here and I know that we…kinda got off on a bad foot."

"_That's_ an understatement," she turned back to her book.

He sighed again. "You know I'm trying to be nice here. We're going to be here, together, in the same room for a while anyways so…why not get to know each other?" he asked, shrugging a little bit.

Piper didn't look up from her book.

"Okay…I'll start. My name is—" suddenly, he didn't get to finish his sentence. All she heard after that was a retching noise, Patti gasping in surprise, and then a splattering noise.

Piper blinked and looked up to find him leaning over to the side with his face in that plastic bucket. He frowned, his eyes still widened and his brows furrowed as if wondering why that had just happened. But Piper knew. It was too soon for him to eat, even if he was just suffering car accident wounds.

She suddenly felt regret and guilt that she had wanted him to not be happy when he first entered. Because now, seeing him like this, broken and disappointed, she felt so bad that she wanted to cheer him up.

Piper tried her best to do so.

"Lovely," she said sarcastically dry, "your name is _BLEECCHH!_"

He didn't do anything. He just sat there, licking his lips. She bet that, to him, his mouth tasted like a bad case of cheese casserole.

He blinked, his eyelids going down as he stared down at the bowl, and then his eyes moved away as Patti insisted she take it away from him as she silently pulled it away.

Piper had forgotten about her book as she stared at him solemnly.

He turned away from Patti and stared at the table, at the rest of his uneaten food unappetizingly. His hand stayed in his lap. "That's not what I was going to say," he said calmly.

"Well, I know that, idiot," she countered—but only meant it jokingly.

He slightly sighed and then took a drink of his water, swishing the water out of his system. But Patti took it away from him and gave him a can of Gatorade. Piper was a little bit confused for this, but the man seemed to understand it as he took it, popped open the lid and drank down the red juice.

Piper's thoughts went back to high school where she had once been told that Gatorade held electrolytes and energy fuel; they help you keep your energy and be hydrated. She guessed that they knew that that would help a weak stomach.

The man didn't seem to want to talk to her anymore, as if he were embarrassed.

She felt bad about it, and had a longing to not let him leave. To not let him put up those abashed walls.

So she blinked, biting her lip, and then said, "It's Piper."

Patti was taking away his tray, but she could see her smirking and eyeing them.

He didn't seem to notice as he looked over at her, his skin tight and stressed clearly around his eyes and mouth in pain and a bitter taste. "What?" he asked, the faint scar on his lip curving.

"My name," she said softly. "It's Piper."

His face cleared of the stress and softened. He almost seemed relieved.

"Jason," he said.

Piper gave a half-smile, studying his face, and she could almost see his heart inside of him opening up.

"Thank you," he said.

Thank you for understanding? Thank you for not being rude? Thank you for not pointing out the embarrassing puking I just upchucked? Thank you for not disappointing me? Thank you for forgiving me?

She nodded, accepting all of them. Piper knew it couldn't be long that she would be able to keep her own walls up. Just like with her dad, there was a point where you had to accept who they really were and the things that they did and open up your heart to them. She guessed she had Patti to thank for this new theory on opening up to him—Jason.

That was another relief. She had a name to put to a face. No longer was he nameless or faceless or just him. His name was Jason. And now he and she were going to be stuck in this room, with difficulties, with smashed hopes joys to be cured, together. At least she didn't have to share that alone.

Piper guessed he really did know how she felt, in a way.

She tried to hide her smile as she continued reading her book.

* * *

**Thanks for reading this chapter!**

**I do not own PJO.**

**And I apologize for any typos; I'm not perfect!**

**I want to warn that next chapter might be a little slow on updating because I've got things with school, and forums, and another story I'm working with on FanFiction, but I promise that I will try to work on it as much as I can:) I am currently trying to figure out a schedule for myself since I seem to be so busy. **

**Please leave a review if you liked or not:) (I love your guys' reviews!X3) **

**Until Chapter Four...**


	4. The Stitch in Between

CHAPTER FOUR—THE STITCH IN BETWEEN

JASON

* * *

"Piper,"

"I'm not okay,"

"I know you're not. Neither am I."

"I went through more than you did, though."

"I know. That's why I'm not okay."

Her face suddenly came into view, and it looked like she was lying in a pool of sunshine. The light washed over her delicate features, making the real color in her eyes split like the visible light prism, making different shards of colors spread across her iris. Her very short hair barely spritzed around her on the pure white pillow, and it looked messy and greasy, but that didn't exactly matter. Jason knew it would be soft if you really felt it. Her lips played beneath her nose, trying to turn into a slight smile, just to make him feel better.

He wouldn't feel better until he knew for sure she was all right.

She clasped his hand. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."

He nodded once.

"Just don't leave me."

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He felt his own fingers tighten around hers.

* * *

Jason awoke with her name blurting from his mouth.

"Hm?" He could then hear her voice lure him from the captivating spell of sleep, in which he could feel its addictive hands try to bring him back under.

"You need something?" she asked again.

This brought him fully awake. Like the idiot he's been this entire time he's been here, he said dumbly, "Huh?"

She stared at him, her brow furrowing. "You said my name."

Jason cursed in his head, said, "Oh, sorry; I didn't know," and ran his fingers through his short-cropped blond hair.

"Oh, okay," her voice said, very quietly, and he almost couldn't hear it.

But he did. Ever since he learned her name, he'd listened and absorbed any syllable she ever said. Like he couldn't get enough of finally having her presence around. But he realized how it was making him make a fool of himself around her. Then he would tell himself that he shouldn't really be caring about how he looked like a mumbling dork around her, because she was just a girl; it wasn't like he had feelings for her. Besides, he'd just met her—he'd just learned her name.

And then he'd remind himself, "Was he really having an inner battle like this?" Then he forced himself to not think about it; he'd had too many thoughts in his second lifetime.

He was starting to think that learning her name might've been a bad idea. It was always going through his mind, like he couldn't quite fit it with her, but when he looked at her, he just knew it was Piper.

Piper.

_Piper._

PIPER.

P-I-P-E-R.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut and told her name to shut it.

"Are you okay?" Piper's voice asked through his closed eyes. "You don't look too well."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He replied, his voice coming out in a low croak.

She didn't respond, so he just sat forward, putting his forearms on the moveable table in front of him and rubbed his eyes open. He had been in the hospital for so long that he didn't have to remind himself that yes, that was where he was.

"Tired?" Piper asked again.

He nodded. "Yeah; I haven't felt this tired in a long time."

"Mm," She nodded as well. "You _are_ in a hospital, so I guess it's understandable."

Jason leaned back against the pillows and raised his arm above his head, stretching—the other arm still hiding behind the sling. It was getting to the point where his calves and feet and arm ached to touch floor and to move. They were even feeling numb, falling asleep, because all he could do was let his broken leg lay there. He was basically just a mummy that could eat and drink. Except for those moments when his torso stung due to the bruises still lining his skin.

A long sigh drew from his mouth as he settled back down and looked up to find Piper reading a different book. That didn't surprise him. In the past month, she's been reading more and more books. She drew and wrote a lot, too. He didn't really mind it anymore, just as long as she didn't always want attention from _him_.

Jason lightly settled his hands, clasping his fingers together, on his stomach. He winced at the slight pain from the weight, but then readjusted it to where it didn't produce discomfort. Jason tilted his head back against the soft pillows behind his neck and his eyes drifted closed just for a few moments, in order to put himself in a sense of comfort…

"_AHHHH!_"

His eyes snapped open, and the cerulean irises met with the TV screen in the top corner of the room.

On the screen, there was a scene of teenage kids screaming their heads off in the backseat of a taxi that was soon coming in contact with a tree. The boy in the middle, with shaggy black hair and wide green eyes, seemed the most frightened. The taxi slowly split apart…

"What on earth are you watching?" He asked.

Piper looked up from her book and glanced up at the TV, smirking to herself. "Oh, nothing you would understand."

"Can you turn it down? It's really loud,"

She scoffed. "Wimp," she replied but then slipped the remote off the bedside table and lowered the volume of the TV.

Jason slightly sighed and rolled his eyes, but kept them open and watched the movie on the TV. It was slightly ridiculous how the old ladies in the front that were driving the taxi were fighting over an eyeball.

Patti came in momentarily to check up on them, make sure they were comfortable, get feedback, and stock the two on their Gatorade—Jason preferred blue, Piper preferred orange.

Patti patted Jason's shoulder with a smile as she readjusted another bandage on his shoulder—he didn't even know _that_ one was there. He was starting to wonder how many wounds he really had, and that made him restless. It reminded him how much he wanted to go back home.

So before Patti could leave, Jason caught her wrist.

"Yes, Mr. Grace?" she asked.

"Patti," he said with his voice deep in longing for an answer and Jason looked up at her from under his eyebrows, pleading. "How much longer?" he asked softly, "You know I can't stay here forever."

Patti frowned. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason could see Piper glance up at them behind Patti. He didn't look at her, though, he just wanted answers.

"It's hard to tell," she said uneasily. She provided another assuring smile. "Just hang in there."

"I _have_ been!" he snapped, his voice rising higher. "For _months_ now! How much more _healing_ do I need? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" Piper murmured. "Honestly, longer than you think if you can't even accept the help."

Jason shot her a look, but she didn't look as if she were trying to offend him. Piper also looked up at Patti. "But I agree with him. Even if I…" she trailed off, but soon a crack in her voice broke her off. She cleared her throat and looked away.

Patti stared at her sadly.

"What does she mean?" Jason asked, and then he blinked and looked at Piper. "What did you mean by that? Even if you—what?"

"It's none of your business," she said softly. Piper reached up and lightly tugged on the edge of her beanie. "I was just agreeing with you. I'd like to go back home soon, too,"

"Exactly." Jason said, his thoughts and worries off the secretive subject. He looked back up at Patti. "I have a university and studies to get to. I can't just keep lying around here or else I'll go crazy!"

Piper coughed.

"Not a word from you, Piper." Jason pointed a finger at her.

She tried to hide her smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't say nothin',"

"Yeah, right. You were about to insult me on being crazy."

"No, I wasn't." she brought her head up from her book. "I was going to say mentally challenged, insane, loopy—"

"I get the point." Jason interrupted her, but she wasn't done.

"But I didn't exactly have to because you technically just insulted yourself on being crazy."

He scowled at her. She just replied with a wide smile.

"Now, you too," Patti scolded lightly. "You guys were doing so well. Don't get all sassy with each other now."

"I think the correct term is frustrated." Jason remarked.

"Well, look at you, Mr. Smarty Pants." Piper shot at him.

He readjusted the strap of his sling, smirking proudly. "Smart? Why, yes I am. Pants? Embarrassingly enough, those are absent." He gave Patti a look.

Patti put her hands on her hips. "Did _I_ ever tell you not to wear pants? No, I just said it was best not to. The other nurses didn't want you to wear pants."

"Oh, brother," Piper scoffed.

Jason's cheeks turned bright red. "That is a violation! How should I put my trust in nurses who just want to…to—"

"Now, calm down, Mr. Grace," Patti said, "they didn't mean it like that."

Jason's eyes widened. "Oh, really? Then how _did_ they mean it?!"

"You're impossible." Piper commented.

"I'm just making sure my body is safe in the hands of swooning nurses."

"_Impossible-e-e_," Piper sang tauntingly.

"Yeah, well you're insufferable." He retorted, glaring.

"Well you're—"

"_Please!_" Patti interrupted, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

The two stopped bickering and stared at her, solemn, and apologetic.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I swear, you two are worse than Joan and Maurice," she began to walk out of the room, mumbling to herself, "Gonna make _me_ go crazy."

Jason looked at Piper, meeting eye contact, and they both couldn't help it, but they broke out into smiles, sharing a small laugh. Their first laugh.

* * *

Patti came back in just a couple minutes later, wheeling a wheelchair inside the room.

At first, Jason was confused. Was he going somewhere? But then he figured it out as she directed the chair next to Piper's bed. He frowned, his heart sinking as he realized that, once again, he was going to be alone.

He told himself to look away so it wouldn't make anyone uncomfortable. He could hear Piper struggle as she had to lean down from the bed and settle herself into the wheelchair. He could then hear as she took the book from the counter and set it onto her lap. Jason watched out of the corner of his eye as Patti wheeled her out, taking her to the unknown place he probably would never see.

Patti began to wheel her out of the room, just like the many silent days before where they didn't even know each other's names, but this time something different happened.

Piper murmured, "See you later, Jason,"

Jason was so shocked by her words, even if they're simple, everyday words that people say every day, he still couldn't believe she had said it. It was as if they had just moved to the everyday basis. Would he see her every day? It was almost like a promise that she would come back. Was she actually starting to like him, in a way?

He cleared his throat, clearing the thoughts from his head. He nodded, and realized he wasn't exactly sure how to respond to it.

"Uhh…yeah. Bye."

Jason stared wide-eyed at them, watching the wheels turn slowly beneath the silver chair, watching as Piper leaned back in the leather seat, as Patti kept walking.

Immediately when he was alone in the room, he cursed to himself silently and tugged at his hair. He probably sounded pretty dumb just then. The way his words slurred, the way he spoke quietly, the way he seemed so fish-out-of-water when she spoke to him…honestly, he would understand if she hated him.

His bright blue eyes looked out the window and he suddenly realized something he'd never quite realized before. Normally, this would be something a normal person would ask themselves, but Jason wasn't normal. He thought to the extreme, only if it mattered. He only thought if it was something that would mean something to the world.

He realized why would he care about how he said things to Piper? Why would he become so obsessed with how he said it?

He guessed maybe it was because he'd just met her. And that he wanted his words to be perfect so she wouldn't get the wrong idea about him.

But that led to another question.

Why would he care about what she thought?

_Well_….he thought. Then he sighed.

For one of the first times ever, he was stumped. But Jason was determined to find the answer.

* * *

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

Her dark eyebrows furrowed together, the dark brown eyes narrowing in question. Like she was exasperated, like she couldn't understand something about him.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked, his heart slightly falling in disappointment.

She sat next to him. The two were sitting in the middle of nowhere—like white clouds were surrounding them.

She stared at him hard. "Why can't you learn to love?"

* * *

"Mista Amazin' Grace, you're missin' everythin' just sleepin' there!"

Jason's eyes flew open so fast that it hurt his eyes and brain. A short, quick gasp was pulled from his lungs just as he woke up, like he had broken through the surface of an ocean. His fingers just as well tightened around the arm rest of his wheelchair just as quick as the gasp.

"Don' be such a scaredy-cat, Mista Grace." Joan repeated in her raspy voice.

Jason looked around. He was back, sitting at the same table, with Maurice and his slightly large glasses—even though, with them, Jason knew he was as blind as a bat—and Larry who was possibly the only sane one there. Joan was included, of course, but she had already made her presence known to Jason.

Jason sighed and sat up straight in his wheelchair. "For goodness sakes, will someone at least wake me up or tell me when they're going to depart me from my original room."

"You, Sir, are much too young ta be usin' those words!" Maurice pointed a knobby, shaking finger at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Like you could actually hear what I said."

Maurice scoffed, baffled, then he puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest, offended.

But Larry laughed as he licked his lips through his smile and shuffled the cards in his hands. Jason found it some surprising that Larry's fingers weren't wobbly and knocked together with arthritis. He seemed to weave the cards into a different order with such professional skills, that Jason probably wouldn't know the difference between him and a weaver.

"These hands have been workin' for years," Larry chuckled, looking at Jason with his warm, brown eyes. "Pickin', gardenin', basketball, baseball, you name it. They aren't just gonna back down to old age!" He winked at Jason.

The ends of Jason's mouth curled upwards in a slight smile. It seemed as if Larry could read Jason's mind when he explained about his hands. Then he blinked, the real subject at hand coming back to him. "But, honestly, why am I here?"

"Because God put yah here, that's why," Joan said as she breathed in her cigarette smoke once again.

"I don' think that's what he meant, Miss Joan," Larry said.

"Yah never know! Maybe God's directin' his path to us. Or maybe to that pretty gal he's sharin' a room with,"

"Now, now, don' yah be gettin' into their business, Miss Joan."

"And why not? We're all in the same damn hospital!" She protested.

"Because they ain't gettin' in your business," countered Larry, "and I'll betcha tonight's cream-of-potato soup that you won't want them in that mess."

The only way Joan could respond was by sticking her tongue out at Larry. It was slightly discolored due to all the years of inhaling smoke through her mouth. Jason had to look away, even if it was a humorous, childish gesture.

Larry looked away as well, but only with a slight smile and to answer Jason. "Frankly, we don' know why you're here. Miss Patti just set you beside us, tellin' us not to wake you, but loud-mouth here couldn' resist herself." He shot Joan a look.

"Well excuse me for helping the boy!" She cried, "He's been sleepin' too much over the last months. He needs ta keep his eyes open or he won't eva live through what's about ta hit him."

Jason did a double-take and thought about what she said. He furrowed his brows at her. "What do you mean—what's about to hit me?"

"Nice goin', Joan, you gave it away!" Maurice said, his head cocked to the side towards her to where Jason could see the hearing aid behind his ear. Maybe this time he really could hear everything they were saying.

"Gave what away?"

Larry looked quite disturbed as well, as if her spilling this secret shook him up too. "Nothin' to worry about, Mister Grace." He gave Jason a warm smile.

But Jason did not feel warm. If anything, he felt colder. That was when he felt the smooth fabric under his foot. He adjusted his toes, which felt the same smooth fabric as well. He leaned back, looking under the table and found that his unbroken leg, his right, had a black sock that was slightly wrinkled as it pushed its way halfway up his shin.

He blinked and looked back up. His skin didn't feel greasy, nor could he smell his own B.O. Jason wondered if someone had bathed him while he was asleep. He reached up with his right hand and felt his hair, which was wet. Had he taken a shower? Was that why he felt cold?

Larry's eyes brightened at something behind Jason. "Why hello, Miss Patti. How are you doin' today?"

"Quite well, thank you," she responded as she appeared next to Jason.

Jason looked up at her. "What in the world am I doing out here?"

Immediately, Maurice and Larry hissed and scolded at him. Larry gave him a disappointed look, and that made Jason's heart weigh down in guilt.

But Jason was confused. "What?"

"Don' talk ta a lady like that. Don' you know any better?" Larry told him.

"But—"

"No but's, Mister Grace! You treat Miss Patti with respect. She done more for you than you done for yourself—you wouldn't be alive an' well if it weren't for her!" Maurice said, his spit grazing over his lips.

"It's okay, gentlemen, I don't mind. He has every right to be a little frustrated with me. I did take him out of his room while he was sleeping,"

"Exactly," Jason looked back up at her. "Why'd you do that, anyways?"

"You asked so yourself, Mr. Grace." She responded. "Wasn't the whole reason for our conversation back in the room that you wanted to get out of bed?"

"I agree with yah, dear Patti," Joan said as she pressed her cigarette into an ash tray. "He's been sleepin' way too much!"

Jason was about to retort, "Then what was I supposed to do?!" but then he saw the raised eyebrows and the I'm-watchin'-you look from Larry and Maurice. So he decided to just sigh through his nose impatiently and sit back.

"Besides, you've met them before. I thought they would make you great company." Patti added on.

Jason could imagine the sight now. Looking at a group of elder people, screaming because they can't pick up sound frequencies as well as they used to back in their younger years, and waving around their hands and cigarettes while playing a card game; and then off to the side was a surprised, younger man who seemed to also be slightly confused, but enjoying this presence.

A part of him made his chest warm with the thought, since he'd never really experienced the feeling of having a family—since he can't remember them because of his first accident—but then the other part of him made his lip curl with slight distaste because he knew that that wasn't exactly normal.

That would've been his complete reaction. Because never in his life could he imagine himself around people that weren't his age—when he would obviously be far better off with his own studies—but looking at these three characters made him want to turn the page and live that comforting experience.

"Did yah hear what she said, Mista Grace?" Joan screamed at him.

He blinked. Maybe they weren't _that_ comforting, since their shouting made him want to plug his ears with mufflers.

"Yes, Miss Joan, I heard her." He responded, his own voice surprising himself. It came out caressing, like he had spoken to an elder lady many times before.

Even Joan seemed surprised by this as she leaned back, blushing. She winked at Larry. "See? He's a gentleman,"

"Pah," he mumbled, frowning even though the laugh lines wrinkled behind his eyes. "He's just sayin' that because we told him too."

Maurice nodded in agreement.

Jason laughed.

Patti patted Jason's shoulder. "See, I knew you'd fit in with them."

He looked back up at her. "What about Piper?"

"Yah mean Miss McLean?" Larry asked as he continued shuffling the cards. "We met her quite a while ago. She rolled by here on her own and was about to wake you up, but then said it was best not to."

Jason looked back at him. "What? She was here? Why didn't you wake me up?"

Larry's brow rose as he looked at Jason underneath his lashes. He gave a mischievous smirk. "If I'd known any better, I 'da thought you'd be takin' a fancy on Miss McLean."

Jason felt his cheeks blush. "What? What, no. Of course not. I just learned her name."

"Aw, Mista Grace is gettin' a red as a tomato!"

He scowled. "Am not."

She winked at him. "Are too,"

"I swear, I'm not!" He felt his ears burn as well.

"Son," Larry started. "If you're thinkin' about startin' an argument with Miss Joan on this, I'mma tell you now that it ain't worth it. She won' drop it till she's won."

Jason opened his mouth to respond, but then thought about it and decided that Larry was probably more right than his protest. He nodded. "I can tell she's a stubborn one."

Joan grinned and nodded. "Mhm!"

Jason looked to Patti. "So then why didn't you wake me up when Piper was here?"

"Well, sir, I didn't even know she came here. I just dropped her off at the library and then went back to my other patients. I thought she was still there," Patti frowned in thought.

"The library?" Jason furrowed his brows. "That's where you guys have been going?"

Patti nodded. "She didn't want you to go with her, seeing how you guys didn't know each other that well yet…"

"Is that why she came for me this time?"

Patti shrugged. "Possibly,"

"She needs to make up her mind," Jason said as he sat back and crossed his arm over the broken one. "One minute she's making fun of me, the next she wants to talk to me."

"Oh, hush," Patti said, "you know she's only joking around. Just like you are."

"Joke around? I don't joke around. I study professionally at a university. I don't joke around about things." He responded.

"Well," Joan pursed her lips as she took her hand of cards that Larry passed to her. "Aren't you a Mista Fancy Pants?"

"I'm not—"

"Remember what I told you son," Larry interrupted him, shaking his head and looking through his cards. "Remember what I told you."

Jason didn't argue with Miss Joan, and told himself not to do so for a while.

"Well, listen, we just met," Jason instead said, "and if she wants to talk to me, then I'll want to hear what she has to say. It's as simple as that."

"Mhm," Joan hummed in her sassy tone. "Nah, it's more than just gettin' to know each other. I can already see that stick in between y'all."

Jason raised a brow. "Stitch?"

"Somethin' my momma always taught me when I was little. The stitch in between two people is when they start to come together." She winked at him. "I can see yah two stitchin' together. Like a quilt."

Jason grimaced and pressed his lips together, frowning. He didn't think that was right between he and Piper, but he couldn't find the courage in himself to tell Joan otherwise.

There was a small alert noise from nearby, like an alarm clock, and Jason turned his head to the source of the sound: Patti's wrist. Her wristwatch was making a slight beeping noise.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled and took her opposite hand and clicked it off. "I must return to my other patients. Good day to you, Mr. Grace." She nodded to the other three. "Joan, Larry, Maurice,"

"Good day to you, too, Miss Patti!" They responded simultaneously.

"Save me some extra cream-of-potato soup, won't you?" Larry added on.

Patti only gave him a smile and then disappeared behind another sterilized hallway.

"Your turn Maurice." Larry said.

"Huh?!"

"He said turn yah hearin' aid back on!" Joan screamed at him.

"Well no wonder why it broke! Cuz your screaming is makin' even _it_ go deaf!"

Joan waved her hand. "Eh, you don't know what you're saying."

"Like hell I don't." He grumped.

* * *

PIPER

* * *

Piper had never been so agitated in her life.

Okay, maybe a lot of times, she couldn't stop fidgeting. Like with her appendicitis, right before surgery, she couldn't control how scared she was to go into surgery. The doctors had to give her laughing medicine just to calm her down. That's how bad it was.

And that one time when she had told her first crush through text that she liked him. Boy, _that_ was a big one. She remembered that memory like it was yesterday. She sent the text, and then waited while staring at the screen for _five whole minutes_. That was when she threw her phone at the wall. Of course she got in trouble—even grounded for a month—but the outcome was that he told her the next day that he felt the same. Then they broke up a month later—but _another_ good thing was that her grounding was released and she got a new phone.

This was exactly how agitated she was—so agitated that she couldn't stop thinking about other times she's been agitated.

The library was silent except for the creaking of the walls as the building settled into the earth and the clatter outside the large room, the clatter of the medicinal field.

Piper tried reading a book, but for some reason she couldn't keep her mind paying attention to the storyline. She zoned out, still reading and speaking the words in her head, so a paragraph later, she'd blink and ask herself what the heck she just read. She tried reading the same page, but after five tries, she sighed impatiently and shut the book, putting it on the table before her.

She shifted in the uncomfortable seat of her wheelchair. Ever since the conversation of wanting to walk around and actually make use of her body, as it once was in that state before the accident, her legs have been itching to stand up and walk. Her feet desperately wanted to touch the ground. At some points, she'd find herself resting her feet on the floor, but the hardness of the cast would get in the way.

Piper glared at it. A part of her wanted to rip off the cast with her bare hands. But then the logical part of her reminded her that that frustrated action was possible.

So stripped clean from ideas, she was agitated. And with that emotion, came pains, as they usually did with her cancer.

Her head hurt a little bit more each day, having to take at least two pain relievers in the results. She drank so much water and Gatorade, and not much food that she was starting to feel sick and frail. It was almost as if her bones might snap at any moment.

It scared her because it brought her the thought of death. Death had never been a thought that scared her; mostly because she knew that it would come when she was ready. She always had imagined herself dying because of old age, but when this new problem surfaced in her skin, that was all she could think about.

With that decayed thought still always on her mind, she spread out a piece of paper on the table in front of her and reached for a pencil. She'd been working on this for a few weeks; she wouldn't let Patti, Jason, Dr. Peters, and not even Joan or Maurice see it. She hadn't wanted to tell Larry, but he had coaxed it out of her with his warm smile.

She wrote on the paper neatly, telling herself exactly what she wanted to do. Once she had finished recording the two words, she sat back, staring at her list of….ah, chores.

The words terrified her in a good way. But she didn't like staring at it—it made her feel even more restless, if that was even possible.

Piper left the paper where it was and looked over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone was around to watch her do what she desperately wanted to do again for some odd reason. When she was certain that there was no one there, she used her hand to push back the wheels on the wheelchair. She was somehow able to back herself out, but she knew that after almost a month of this practice, she was getting better at this.

She cursed at it every time the wheelchair squeaked as she moved out of the library. Piper was very alert to make sure Patti or Dr. Peters wasn't watching her, and she was now slowly moving down a hallway.

"There yah are, hun!" Joan said, spotting her from a few feet away. She waved her hand toward them.

Piper smiled and continued working her way toward them, but then one of the nurses walked up to her, gesturing kindly to the handles of her wheelchair, and pushed her the rest of the way to their table. Piper felt a little bit irritable that she couldn't even wheel herself there, but then again, she was kind enough to allow it. Her tiny, sore arms were aching a little anyways.

"Thanks," she murmured to the nurse and the woman walked away after returning a smile.

Piper looked to her left and immediately found Jason, sitting back in his chair, eyes closed and slightly snoring—he was asleep. She furrowed her brows and smirked, but also thinking to herself, _Wow this is like déjà vu._

This is the second time she has come back there, and he was asleep again. She poked his face.

"Don't worry, hun, I'll wake him up," Joan said, patting Piper's arm with her bony hand. "I can't believe he hasn't learned from ta first time."

A smile spread across Piper's face as Larry laughed as well. "I'm sure the boy won't ever want ta sleep again."

* * *

JASON

* * *

Jason was slowly moving towards her.

He wasn't doing it on purpose, but somehow, something was pulling him toward Piper, whom sat next to him on another chair.

He blinked and looked down at his side to find that there were large pieces of red string coming directly out of his sides where his ribs could be.

"Don't y'all worry, hunnies," a voice said.

Jason looked up to find Joan looming over them, weaving with her fingers that were holding the red thread. She was pulling them together. But she looked so big, that Jason felt so small, as if he were a doll.

She kept weaving them together, when suddenly they were side-by-side. He looked at Piper, and immediately, she slapped him.

* * *

"Mista Amazin' Grace, you fell asleep again!" Joan screamed at him. Then he felt like he was reliving this moment in his life again. Being awoken by Joan—_again_. Except this time, he was awoken with a stinging pinch on his cheek.

His eyes groggily pulled themselves open and he blinked, then rubbed his cheek. He could vaguely sense a warm, new presence to his right side, but his mind wasn't awake enough to acknowledge it just yet. "I'm sorry, I'm just—"

"Yah need some more energy, good night!" Joan cried exasperatedly.

"I _do_ have enough energy," Jason protested as he sat up.

Larry chuckled to his left. "One minute you were playin' rummy with us, the next you're droolin' all over your cards."

Jason scowled. "I don't drool."

"You're right," Piper snickered. "You don't drool; you snore."

Jason suddenly looked at her as if he'd just realized she was there. He had felt her, but it seemed as if he was already so used to her being next to him. "Right. I snore, you drool."

"You watch me in my sleep?" She raised an eyebrow as she looked down at her hand of cards. "That's a little creepy,"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You were just watching _me_ sleep."

"I wasn't watching. I was hearing—since your nose decides to be louder when you sleep than when you're awake."

In certain ways, Piper reminded Jason of Joan. He shook his head. "I assume you're here because you wanted to see me?"

She looked up at him and hesitated before she said, "You know, the world doesn't revolve around only you,"

Jason knew she was lying. He could tell by the flicker in her eyes and the frown that settled on her lips. Not that he was looking there purposefully, of course. Because that would be embarrassing. He pushed the thought away as he reminded himself that all those studies on the brain, and lying tips, were coming in handy.

He leaned back and sighed. "Mhm, sure. Really, what do you need me for?"

Piper sighed in frustration and tugged on her purple beanie. "For goodness sakes, I don't need you for anything. What, I can't just sit here and play rummy with my friends?"

"Miss Piper," Larry said calmly as he leaned forward, looking up at Piper from under his silver eyebrows. "C'mon now, I reckon he'll help you."

She sighed again, but not in frustration. As if his words had been a soothing balm over her sharp walls that surrounded the subject. Piper's face softened and she met Larry's eyes. He gave her a polite smile and then reached over and patted her hand.

"What are y'all talkin' about?" Joan asked.

"I didn't say anything!" Maurice cried.

"That's because yah don't understand anythin' anymore!"

"Huh?!"

Larry chuckled and then pulled back. He nodded once to Piper.

Jason was just as confused as Maurice. Piper was hiding something, he could tell. And she had told Larry, who was trying to help her keep it a secret, but for some reason, it involved Jason.

"What's wrong?" he asked, furrowing a brow.

"Oh, nothin'. I'm sure Miss Piper here would like to tell you all about it." Larry said as he slyly smacked his lips, trying to hide his smile.

"Well, maybe not _all_ of it…" she said. "I'm not even sure if I can trust him yet, Larry."

"I'm right here, you know." Jason said, feeling slightly irritable.

But they didn't seem to pay attention that he had said something.

"Miss Piper, you've got to try to get along. It's only going to get worse if you don't have someone. He can help you with your—"

Piper shot him a look which stopped him in mid-sentence.

"Don't do what I did. You've got a chance to get out, Miss,"

Now Jason was seriously getting worried. What did they mean? Was something horrible happening to the both of them? Because if so, he didn't think he could be able to live through that. And even then, he could feel the tugging sensation lightly pulling on his heart, and he briefly had to touch his ribs as if to make sure he still wasn't attached to red thread.

Piper looked at Jason and studied him. Her face looked smooth and clear without her hair hanging in her face; instead it was hidden beneath her beanie, he guessed. It made her eyes bigger and he could see their color. Green, but like it was paint layered over another layer of blue paint. And hazel. Her lips scowled at him, but then softened as her lashes blinked, like she had remembered something. Her shoulders dropped in defeat.

He solemnly blinked, not sure what to do or what this meant.

"Come on, idiot," she finally said, pulling back on the wheel of her chair, backing away from the table.

"Buh-bye, Miss Pipes!" Joan waved her hand at her.

Piper smiled. "See you later, Miss Joan,"

Jason clenched his front teeth together and gave her a look, his eyelids dropping with a lick of annoyance. "Seriously? I have a name. It isn't idiot. If anything, I'm _not_ an idiot."

Piper laughed. "Keep telling yourself that. Follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"The library," she said, pressing against a tone of impatience. "Come _on_."

"How am I supposed to move?" Jason cried. He looked down at the sides of his chair where there were large steel wheels. He guessed he had to turn those. "The library," he mumbled in question, furrowing a brow, "why the heck would be going to the library?"

"Will you just come on?" she asked and poked him hard in the shoulder.

He hissed through his teeth as her finger made contact with a bruise. He pressed his eyes shut, biting his lip.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," she said with her tone now dripping with worry. She immediately drew her hand back and lightly touched his arm with her fingers.

The bruise felt as if it was on fire, and his arm felt oddly warm. "S'okay," he said through his teeth. "Didn't hurt that bad."

Piper nodded. "Oh, and make sure you don't run into the walls."

"Huh?"

* * *

"Damn it!" Jason cursed as the corner of his wheelchair hit another corner of the wall. It made his teeth vibrate.

"Will you quit it?" Piper hissed back at him. "You're leaving a trail of dents. You're gonna blow our cover."

"What cover? We literally _are_ patients in a hospital, if you've forgotten." He shot back as he began to wheel himself backwards and moved away from the walls.

"Trust me, I know. And _who_ put us here?"

"And _who's_ making me follow them without a nurse?"

"And _who_ looks like an idiot right now?"

"This is going nowhere."

"Because _you_ aren't moving your butt." She concluded. Then she shook her head. "God, I shouldn't have agreed with Larry."

Jason finally got himself situated away from the wall. It was very difficult to do this with one hand, since the other was broken and twitching in the sling to reach out and help the other hand. But he couldn't; he knew because each time he did try to do it, he felt as if there _wasn't_ a bone under the skin.

He leaned to the side and spun the wheel fast, and suddenly he was gliding down the hallway, meeting up with Piper who had been more than five feet away from him. He passed her, and continued turning the wheel, quickly every now and then leaning the other way, but using his same unbroken hand to reach the wheel on the other side. The wheelchair was wobbling, since it was still uneven, but he felt he was doing a considerably good job.

Until he ran into, yet again, another wall. Except this time, he was supposed to run into the wall. And another thing, he had slowly been decreasing in speed before he made contact with it, so it didn't hurt as much.

But he still groaned at the whiplash. Jason's arm was sore as well, too, and his bruises were flaring where his sides were leaning against the edge of the hard armrest.

Piper graciously wheeled past him. "Nice going, idiot."

"Yeah, yeah," he ignored her.

"But I guess you aren't that much of an idiot, since you found your own way here." She said and she kept wheeling until she passed by a set of open double doors.

Jason looked up, the look of pain gradually disappearing from his face. It was almost as if the presence of knowledge there was easing the pain. It was like the gates of Heaven were calling him as he used his one hand, his muscles now shadowing from the joints of his arm, to slowly wheel into the large room.

His mouth began to part as his eyes searched through the rows of books. Just to be around them, even if they weren't his university books, seem to shift his brain back to how it used to be.

Piper watched him and couldn't help but smile at the dazed look on his face. "You're catching flies,"

He closed his mouth, but it didn't seem to put a damper in his joyous mood. Jason blinked and looked at her. "Why'd you finally decide to bring me here with you?"

Piper shrugged. "Well, after that conversation we had with Patti, I figured it would be something you needed. You know, to bring you back to your sanity."

He breathed a laugh as he kept wheeling inside, coming closer to where she was, by the table. "Thank you, Piper."

She gave him a small smile. "Well…you're welcome."

"So what do you do in here? Just read and write a lot?" Jason asked, his bright blue eyes becoming brighter with interest as they kept wandering around.

Piper nodded. "Yeah," she said, "but you can just do whatever you'd like." she began to wheel away to the bookshelves.

Jason nodded as well and pulled himself with the last energy left in him. The air conditioners in the library were bringing a soft breeze to him, and it put a chill along his skin, but it didn't bring him away from his wanting to research more on the brain. He was about to follow her into the bookshelves when something on the table caught his eye. It was a piece of paper. With the smile still on his face, he turned his head to look at it, his brow furrowing.

Piper looked over her shoulder to tell Jason something, but the smirk and light left her face in complete dread as she saw him looking down at her secret on the table. The secret that's kept her here; the secret that no one was supposed to know.

The paper seemed to suck the smile right off his face. Especially after he realized what it was, because right after that, his lips seemed to pull into a deep, dark frown. A shadow passed over his face and he felt as if one of the pieces of thread attached to his rib had been snipped off.

Jason looked at Piper, who was now sitting a few feet away by the end of one bookshelf. She seemed to have lost something in her as well.

His chest heaved slowly, as if his lungs couldn't breathe, that this thought was paining him. He furrowed his brows, his face troubled. His voice cracked as he asked, "Why have you made a bucket list?"

* * *

**I do not own PJO; Rick Riordan does.**

**But I hope you guys liked this chapter! I'm sorry if there are spelling or grammatical errors, I was in half a rush while writing this. (But if you can see the reference to something else of PJO, then you're awesome:))**

**I also apologize for not having updated for a while. To me, if feels like it's been forever, but I guess for you guys, it seems almost like a lifetime XD But, like I said, I'm sorry I've been going through a really difficult time lately with school crap, family crap, friends crap, and life crap. Writing and reading is my only antidote:)**

**Please review! Each and every one makes me even happier:3**

**ENJOY YOUR WINTER BREAK XD**

**CHRISTMAS IS SO CLOSE! (And also happy Hanukkah or whatever holiday you wish to celebrate:)) **


	5. Picking up the Blue Sticky Notes

**Hello again, readers! I am so sorry it's been a while for this update; I've had exams and been stressing over that and family problems. But I have now finally been given the chance to update because I am off for Winter Break! Whoop whoop! So now I will be able to update more frequently then I have been [for the next two weeks, at least]. **

**I want to say thank you so much for the reviews, favorites and follows that I have so far; I really appreciate it! :)**

**I do not own PJO; Rick Riordan does.**

**Warning: I am sorry if this chapter gives you minor feels.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE—PICKING UP THE BLUE STICKY NOTES

* * *

"What do yah reckon Miss Pipes wanted Mista Amazin' Grace for?" Joan raised a brow that had long since gone along with her younger years.

Larry, across the card table, leaned forward. "Now, now, Miss Joan. Just because they're gone, doesn' mean yah can get in their business."

Joan huffed and sat back, folding her arms across her lavender sweater, the bright petals of the large flower attached to the collar almost touching her wrinkly wrist. She may have to wear a hospital gown, and the nurses might get a little anxious with her when wearing other clothing over it, but she always told them: "If I'mma goin' out soon, I'mma goin' out in style,"

In which the hospital authority gave in when she mentioned her own death and allowed her to wear whatever she wanted to, as long as she had the gown underneath. Joan had started a new complaint that she _had_ to wear her pantyhose underneath—for, after all, she _was_ a lady—but that was something they said was only allowed for special occasions; but she could wear her undergarments.

"Don' gives me that look, Joan," Larry said as he stared down at his hand of cards.

"What look?" Joan sneered, still giving him an irritating look. Her bottom lip stuck out and she narrowed her eyes.

He looked at her from under his thin, frosty brows. "That'n," He said in his slight southern drawl. "It don' work on me. Maybe ta Maurice and Mista Grace an' all them other staff, but surely not me," He shook his head and rearranged a card or two in his hands. "I'mma too old for that; you won' get an answer outta me."

Joan gave a sour look, sucking back in her lip, and she rolled her eyes before throwing her arms down. "Alright, alright, yah old man," she sighed impatiently as she picked her cards back up, grumbling, "Take the fun outta everythin',"

Larry chuckled and glanced up at her, almost sadly. "I'mma sure that whatever it is, we'll find out soon,"

"An' what in the Sam hill makes yah so sure of that?" Her voice rose.

"Because Miss Piper will soon tell," He said, still sadly, as if he were praying that she would be okay. "I know she will."

"Now yah just talkin' riddles!" Joan exclaimed.

"Joan, Miss Piper is quite like you," he said.

"How do yah reckon?"

"She can't keep a secret ta herself." Larry chuckled. "No matter who it is she tellin' it to,"

Maurice snored back awake, breathing the drool that was settling on his lips back into his mouth. "Ain't that the truth!"

"Hush, yah old geezer!" Joan hissed, her lips pursing in offense. She turned to Larry. "Now, that's not true! I've neva told yah any of my secrets. I've never told Maurice where I've always hidden his teeth!"

"Joan!" scolded Maurice in a deep tone. "Gimmee back my dentures!"

"Please, that's a secret yah don't need ta tell anyone." Larry said calmly. "Because we all know that you stuffed them in yah bathroom sink!"

Joan gasped in surprise, shifting back in her chair, straightening—but not enough to even out the hump in her back—and exclaimed, "Well, I'll be!" She pointed a finger at him. "Yah a peep! Yah watched me put it there!"

"And," Maurice added on, "we all know yah still wear yah pantyhose."

Joan shushed him and hissed, "Not so loud, yah simpleton! They'll hear yah!" she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking as she tugged on the end of her gown so that the nurses couldn't see the thin, tan layer of pantyhose.

Larry laughed heartily and set down his hand of cards. "An' on that note, I beat y'all!"

But they didn't mind because Joan was too busy pulling down her gown and shouting insults at Maurice, while Maurice kept laughing and pointing at it to the nurses.

Larry chuckled and clasped his hands over his stomach, over the thin layer of green-polka-dots and he tugged lightly on the ends of his worn-out beige sweater. The smile lingered on his face, causing his mustache to go up on the ends, and for the laugh lines to crinkle behind his eyes. He sighed, hoping that somewhere Miss Piper truly was helping herself by telling Mista Grace.

* * *

JASON

* * *

"Why?"

He felt like he had to repeat himself, because he could barely hear the words coming out of his own mouth. Like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears and mouth. His eyes focused on her, but he felt like he wasn't seeing the entire picture of her—because now he knew there was something she was holding back; something she wasn't telling him; something much deeper than just her outer appearance and the fact that he lost control because of a cat.

Piper hardened her jaw and he could see her chest having a difficult time breathing in. Her hand shook. "Give that back," the words said through gritted teeth.

He shook his head slowly, furrowing his brow. "No." he shook his head again, more sure that he didn't want her to keep this subject distant with him.

"_Jason_," she said, her tone breaking into a sterner voice. She dipped her head down, looking at him with more serious eyes. "Give it. _Now_."

"_No_." He kept his fingers attached to the paper and he wheeled a little away from her with his free hand. "Not until you tell me why."

"It's none of your business," snapped Piper.

"It is so," his voice began to rise in fear and guilt. Fear that it was because of him, guilt that it was his fault. "I started this—and I—did I—?" The words couldn't fit into a proper sentence.

"No, it wasn't you!" Tears had begun to rise over her eyes.

Her eyes. They scared him the most. Instead of mixing into an indecisive color, they stayed in a cold gray, as if they had no feeling left in them, at the subject of this one sheet of paper.

Jason's thoughts were spiraling around him. If it wasn't him, then what caused her to make this? And he knew that she didn't write what she wanted to do before her life ended, just because she was taking precautions in case she would ever get hit again, because then she wouldn't look as heartbroken as she does now. There was definitely a reason for this list. And he, being the curious and sophisticated person he is, would try to find out why.

"Then what is it?" His brows rose along with his voice.

Piper looked impatient and furious as she took one swift wheel towards him. Jason couldn't act fast enough because of his thoughts still running through like freight train. She got near enough to snatch it from his broken hand, which also couldn't act fast enough hence the sling.

"Like I said," she said, her voice going back down—but to a harder level—"it's none of your business."

She folded up the piece of paper and slipped it into her own sling. She turned on her wheelchair and wheeled away from him, going further into the library.

"Why won't you tell me?!" he called out to her.

"Will you shut up? This is a library!" She responded.

He wanted to grumble back, "Well you're yelling too," but he knew that this wasn't the time to joke around with snarky responses.

So Jason readjusted himself, putting his thoughts back on the track, and wheeled forward with his only good hand. He followed her. "Are—are you sick?"

She didn't answer as she slipped into another aisle in between two shelves. He followed her and couldn't help but notice how frail she was compared to the large wood.

He went into the aisle before the one she went into, peeking over the books in the shelf, watching her and following along with her slowly. His wheelchair drifted to the bookshelf in between them, but he'd correct his path just before it slammed into the wood. He watched her with furrowed brows.

"Piper," he said softly, "_please_ tell me. Maybe I can help."

At the sound of his voice, she jerked her good hand up and tugged down her beanie, hiding her face from him.

This made something in his chest grow heavy. He had to stop at the end of the aisle and reach up to rub his sternum, blinking in confusion. He had never felt this before. Not really; not anytime soon. He soon realized it was his heart.

Was he really worried? Of course he was, he answered his thoughts. Of course. He'd put her here. It was obviously affecting her more than it was him. Like he had a tribute to pay; like he had to help her get out.

Jason swallowed hard and put down his hand in his lap. Piper kept wheeling down to the edge and he eased forward, still not taking his eyes off of her.

She stopped at the end and he stopped, too. His blue eyes looked over the different heights of books and watched her as she kept her head down, avoiding his eyes.

"Pi—"

"No!" she hissed and finally looked up. Her eyes were now a blue color, reflecting off of the tears that slid down her cheeks. But the rest of her expression looked calm, hidden, as if trying to keep things together, but her eyes were giving it away.

Jason almost seemed startled, as he realized it was the first time he'd seen her cry since he'd really begun to know her. Like even just watching her like this would break her even further. Each time a tear fell, it was like another snip in the red thread in between them. Each time another tear rose in the other's fallen place, it was another mile away from her, away from the reason of this list, another secret in between them.

Even through the past few months he hadn't known her all that well, he didn't want this to happen. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that she was the only company he had, really. For some reason, he didn't want her to be distant from him.

Even through the past few months, he'd figured them friends. Or at least, almost-friends. It was like he knew she couldn't go through this alone, either.

"You wouldn't understand," she brought him from his thoughts. Piper shook her head and swiped the tears away. "I knew I shouldn't have brought you here."

That heavy feeling in his chest went deeper.

She looked away from him.

Even as he considered them good friends, he'd begun to realize now. She may need the company, the help, but she wouldn't accept it. At least, not from him. Not yet.

Jason frowned and nodded his head. "I'm sorry," He then continued out of the aisle, but instead of going near her, he turned to the exit of the library.

He didn't look back, he just kept wheeling out with one thought in mind. It was the one thing he saw other than the words: Bucket List.

_Number seven—Live in a great, big house._

* * *

PIPER

* * *

It had been more than two weeks later when she finally saw him again.

Piper had mostly kept herself in the library or with Larry, Joan, and Maurice—obviously when Jason wasn't there. She wasn't sure if she could face him again without feeling exposed or angry.

They still slept in the same room together, but neither looked or spoke to each other. And she made sure to wake earlier than him so that she could go out of the room, and his eyes wouldn't open to watch her like they did from behind the books.

But she still couldn't escape from his studying eyes. Even in her dreams, they watched her, studied her, promising that he had enough will to help her if she'd just speak. Before she could even make up her mind, she'd force herself to wake up.

When she told Larry what had happened, he gave her a disappointed look that made her want to turn back around and confess her brain cancer to Jason.

Her cancer, which was still in her head. It seemed to not have moved. She thought that it would be treated with quicker than this, but she was wrong. She was still in the midst of the battle.

It gave her more symptoms. She threw up practically every day and night. Patti diagnosed her with more pain killers to ease the migraines. Her memory even threatened to forget things now and then, but then she'd clear them up with Patti. It always scared her when it happened, in fear that she would forget something about herself for forever and not even know it. It was like trying to hold onto so many pieces of paper at once into a windstorm, and a couple papers slipping from her grasp, blowing in the wind, behind her back. It was surely difficult.

Her hair kept falling out. She had to ask Patti's permission to use at least a pencil to darken her eyebrows, which sometimes fell out. The only good thing about it was that she didn't have to deal with the art of shaving anymore.

Piper felt as though she were in a broken state. Every few weeks she'd be given another dose of her chemotherapy and the other steps for it, but it'd become a routine that she didn't mind much anymore. She still only ate a couple crackers a day, since it was still hard for her to eat a big meal and try to keep it down. Gatorade and PowerAde were the things she looked forward to every day.

Piper felt broken, like all of her flaws she didn't know she had were being squeezed from her, and all because of a sickness inside of her.

She felt like she had lost touch of reality, being stuck in a hospital, watching the Daily News with elder people that screamed in each other's ears to give back their dentures. And her Bucket List was the only thing that kept her connected, like a line on a kite floating in the clouds. Although, she still had no idea how she would be able to fulfill the almost-impossible contents on it.

She may have been in a bad state, but when she was finally in the same room as Jason, he looked as though he was close to her being as well.

What with the hollow places still outlining his cheekbones, eyes, and temples, and how skinny he seemed to look as well, Piper would've thought that he also had cancer. But she doubted it because he looked calm; he didn't have buckets sitting next to his bed in case he had to throw up in the middle of the night.

They might've been in a weak appearance, but Patti and Dr. Peters had told them with warm smiles that their bones were now able to be completely healed in casts, in which now they can move around their arms.

This was a great relief to them and Piper almost smiled at Jason, but then stopped herself when she found that he wasn't looking back at her. Not anymore. His blue judgment had left from its interest in her.

They might've been in the same room, but that didn't mean that they looked at each other, or spoke. She caught only a couple glances from him, and she saw his expression when she was wheeled back into their room. They had kept each other's gazes only for a couple moments before they both broke away.

Dr. Peters updated that they seemed to be getting better, health-wise. That their bones were healing and depending on the process of the other wounds, they should be out of there in the next few months.

Piper felt her heart grow heavy. She could see her dad—then that brought another thought to her. She had called him right before the accident. Surely you could hear the car squealing at the end, in the background. Shouldn't he be visiting her? Surely, he couldn't be _that_ selfish with his film productions that he couldn't even visit his almost-dying, only daughter.

She let that sink in. It was possible that he would do that. He had forgotten about her before in the midst of his acting career.

Before she could let the angry, hot tears rise, Jason asked a question to Dr. Peters.

"How much longer until I can eat and take a shower on my own?"

There were two things that Piper noticed when he asked that.

Firstly, he said _I_, not _we_. Basically, he was stating that he could get through this on his own. Sorry that I hit you, but good luck healing on your own. I'm putting up my walls now. Piper could almost feel the pinching slap on her own cheek. But that was before she reminded herself that she was here for more reasons than he was.

And secondly, he did look as though he'd taken a shower. But there was still a hard cast on his foot and a too-delicate sling on his arm. He must've been given a sponge bath. She had to resist the urge to giggle at the thought of the "swooning nurses" being given the opportunity to wash him off. Piper had to turn her head to the side to hide her amused smile.

"It'll still be a while, maybe a month or so, depending on how strong your body becomes." Dr. Peters assured him. "I'd say soup would be okay for you to try, and let you start with crutches."

"Thank you," murmured Jason as he nodded.

And then Patti helped Piper and Jason slip off their slings. Piper was first after Patti reasoned, "Ladies first,"

Jason seemed slightly miffed with the idea, anxiously wanting his sling off, but he didn't say anything. He just glanced at Piper, in which she caught because she realized too late that she had been watching him, too.

She looked away as Patti unwrapped the gauze around Piper's arm. Her arm felt cold as it was exposed to the hospital air. She could feel the numb bone inside, not quite healed yet, and she took in a sharp deep breath. She couldn't feel much pain, but she knew it hurt. She knew it was still broken.

Patti wrapped stronger gauze around her arm and asked for a color. Piper, not wanting pink—because she wasn't that girly—or blue—because she knew it would remind her too much of Jason—picked red, which was somewhere in between those two colors. Patti warned her it might hurt a little since she had to add some pressure to keep the cast attached, and used a sponge of water to press it to the white gauze.

Piper could feel Jason's stare on her the entire time. She could feel his interest and curiosity as she moved her fingers around the suffocating cast. It was nice to be able to move her fingers and rotate her arm—only a little—and she smiled. A chuckle sounded from her throat in happiness.

She could hear the small breath coming from Jason as he chuckled as well. And what was different was that she didn't feel any anger towards him anymore. As if her gratefulness to move her arm seemed to turn a page inside of her, seemed to flip over that emotion of agitation of him finding her list.

Jason picked purple. Piper was sure that he would choose blue, but he didn't. She had stayed after, watched him marvel at his arm and his eyes light up, and then left to her own devices in her wheelchair, in which she felt the crash of relief as she found she could move it around with both of her hands now instead of one.

Jason followed her out, but they went opposite ways. Jason moved to the right, while she moved to the left. Right meant the card table with their older friends. Left meant the walls that enclosed her, surrounded with millions of words kept hidden inside the spines of books.

But this time, Piper looked back.

This time, so did Jason.

* * *

"I don't know, it's almost like I'm forgiving him," Piper tilted her head in thought as she said this to Larry.

"As you should, Miss Piper," he responded as he kept staring at the television screen, that same warm smile lingering on his face.

She shrugged. "I mean, every time I look at him now, I'm not angry anymore."

Larry chuckled. "That ain't forgiveness, Miss Piper. You're just forgivin' yourself for what you've done. You're just gettin' used to Mista Grace bein' here with you."

Piper furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that forgiveness is only when you're okay with what someone else has done. Mista Grace hasn' done anythin' bad ta yah. You're just finally allowin' the fact that he's here _with_ you."

"What, are you saying I'm actually…" she trailed off, not finding the words.

"Findin' a fancy for him?" Larry raised a brow as he looked at her sideways. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She sighed. "Please, Larry, I technically just met him,"

"Boy, yah two just love that excuse,"

Piper rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smirk.

"An' I don' mean it in _that_ way, Miss," he patted her hand that was resting limply on the armrest of her wheelchair. "I meant as friends."

She considered this thought.

"An' then maybe love'll blossom." Larry chuckled."That'll sure be the day Miss Joan'll shoot up from her chair an' dance on her own two feet for the first time in years,"

Piper laughed. "I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Because…" she failed to find an excuse yet again. "I just do!"

"Mhm," replied Larry, quite sassily.

Piper smirked but put her focus back onto the television screen. The news was still playing and they had just finished discussing a car accident, with two injuries and a beat-up blue truck.

The news reporters moved on and gave a hint at what'll come on after the commercial break.

"…and the brother of the two di Angelo siblings have been found again after almost ten years of being kidnapped. Unfortunately, his sister was found dead."

On the screen they showed two pictures. One was of a girl with olive skin. She looked as though she were in middle school with her young face and long dark hair, a floppy green hat sitting on top of her head. Her dark eyes smiled along with her lips. She didn't have an after picture.

And next to her was a little boy, who looked almost exactly like her, except paler. His dark hair was close-cropped. That was the before picture. The after picture showed his face more angular, more depressed, as if more broken. There were hollow places underneath his cheekbones and eyes and his hair was shaggier, covering half of his ears and brushing at his dark eyebrows.

"Their vice principal, Dr. Thorn, has been convicted guilty of kidnapping them and is now put in jail until death. Nico di Angelo was found, after escaping, by this brave man, Percy Jackson…"

They showed another picture of an older man, about Piper's age, with the same shaggy black hair, except it didn't go over his ears, and was an inch away from his eyebrows. His sea green eyes glowed in this picture, and his smile seemed simple.

But Piper wasn't exactly paying attention. With the feeling of someone watching her, she glanced over to find Jason coming out of the room, sitting nearby, and also watching the television in interest.

Piper sighed as she turned and looked at the floor.

Larry clicked his tongue in sadness. "The world is much different than from my time. How people could take a bitty boy from his school boggles me…" he shook his head.

"I'm thinking maybe I should tell him." Piper thought out loud.

"Hm? I'm sorry, Miss Piper, but I'm sure there's more than one kidnapper out there…"

Piper blinked as she brought her head up. "Huh?"

Larry furrowed a brow at her. "You weren' talkin' 'bout the news, were yah?"

She shook her head. "No, I was talking about Jason and my list."

Comprehension filled Larry's face. "Ah, yes. I think you should,"

"But…I don't want to tell him about my cancer." She replies in a low, soft voice. "And I'm afraid he'll keep asking me about it if I let him see the list."

"Then maybe you don' have ta _tell_ him. Just show 'im."

Piper furrowed her brows. "And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?"

Larry smirked, the laugh lines crinkling behind one eye. "Don' eva tell me I don' have an imagination,"

* * *

JASON

* * *

"Yah know, she likes music, Mista Grace," said Larry as he leaned a little towards Jason.

Jason blinked out of his thoughts and brought his head up. "W-what?"

"Aw, no, yah don't!" Joan cried. "We don't need ta give yah a hearin' aid like 'ole Maurice here, do we?"

He shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary, Miss Joan. I was just, uh, thinking. I didn't hear what you said, Larry," he looked over at the old man.

"I said, she likes music." Larry repeated himself, and a twinkle was shining in his eye.

"Who?" Jason blinked, even though he knew _exactly_ who Larry was talking about. The girl that was always boggling him, the girl who was hurt, the girl with the secret, the girl that was keeping her distance from him. The girl that was even in his dreams.

"Miss Pipes!" Joan exclaimed, sighing impatiently. "I didn't think 'twas possible for people ta go senile at this young age!"

Jason couldn't help but smile a little. He didn't respond to Joan's comment as he turned to Larry, his eyebrows still in question.

Larry just smirked. "I, ah, think it's your deal, Mista Grace,"

Jason blinked, looking at him curiously, but then looked down at the hand of cards pressed against his fingers—both hands, seeing how his purple cast now allowed him to move around. He sighed and looked for any possible movements he could make with his cards when he found a small strip of blue hiding underneath one of the cards that overlapped another.

He slightly spread it out to see the entire blue substance. It was a blue sticky note attached to an Ace of hearts card.

It read: _Number four—Escape the world for a day._

Jason was puzzled at first. Why was this here? But then he thought about Number seven. Was it a piece of her list? Was she finally opening up to him again?

He glanced up at Larry, his brow furrowed, about to ask how this got here but by the time his eyes reached Larry, the old man was smiling down at his cards as if he suspected nothing. But the laugh lines gave it away; Jason knew Larry was in on this. He decided not to question it.

He kept that Ace all throughout the game.

* * *

She smiled at him. "It looks beautiful; I love it,"

"Yeah, we sure did a great job," he admired the great, big house in front of them.

"Thank you, Jason,"

"You don't have to thank me. I would've done it anyways."

Like he always would, he knew.

* * *

For the first time in several nights, he woke up peacefully. Before, he'd have nightmares where he'd hurt her, or he forgot about her, or he was lost without her. He'd wake up into the current of the surge of panic.

But this time, he was calm. As if he'd just…floated out of his dream.

He reached up to rub his eyes more awake, when something brushed against his nose. He blinked in confusion and furrowed a brow, looking down at his arm. There wasn't anything on it, and it didn't feel like the hardness of his cast. Fortunately, he looked down in time to see a small square of blue float down and land on his chest. He picked it up and read it.

_Number two—Travel the world._

He smiled. He could now understand what she was doing. She was showing him what was on her list. She was opening back up. Now was the time when he got the feeling that there was something he had to do in return for her, too. And couldn't help but remember, for some reason, that she liked music.

* * *

PIPER

* * *

She smiled at the nurse that pushed her wheelchair into Larry's room. Piper pushed herself the rest of the way as she reached Larry's bed, in which he was lying in, looking over at her and giving that warm smile.

"Why, hello, Miss Piper," he greeted with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

"Well, you weren't at the entertainment lounge…I was wondering where you were and Joan told me you were in your room. Are you okay?" Piper furrowed a brow in concern.

"Why, of course, it's just that my body's so old," he sighed and shook his head lazily, "sometimes it just needs a break, yah know?"

Piper nodded, still in concern because she could tell that he wasn't telling the entire truth by the glint that was absent in his eyes. "Yeah, I understand,"

"Now, why are you _really_ here?" He squeezed her hand assuringly, but his mustache wasn't curling with his smile.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me with those sticky notes and stuff. You really do have quite the imagination," she chuckled lightly. "I think it's actually going to work."

Larry nodded. "I think so, too. Now, Miss Piper, you have to promise me one thing."

She tilted her head a little. "Yeah?"

Larry now looked at her seriously. "Let 'im help you, Miss," He squeezed her hand again before letting go. "That boy has some—what do yah call it?—potential. He knows a lot more than yah think yah do. He's been through a lot more than yah think, too. So while he's helpin' you, you help 'im as well. Understand?"

Piper nodded, but was still puzzled. "Yeah…But why—what has he been through?"

Larry chuckled lightly. "An' that's just how yah goin' to help him. By askin' him yourself."

Piper sighed. She was getting a little tired of people telling her to do something, and then not tell her exactly why. But when it came down to Larry, she had the patience for it.

"Why didn't you?" she asked, but meant more than Jason. Larry knew that she meant this, too.

Larry sighed sadly. "The reasons of why I didn' tell my family about my cancer is none of your concern."

Piper stared at him even if he stared at the wall. "Won't it make things worse?"

"It would make it worse if they knew. I don' like havin' the people I love concernin' over me…There's no use. We all know I'll be gone someday," he stared at her, smiling, but the look of sadness still stayed over his expression. "They wouldn' understand if I told 'em that it was okay if I would have to go sooner than they'd like."

Piper blinked to stop her eyes from stinging with tears. She shook her head softly. "I still don't understand why you'd do this to yourself…"

"Why, Miss, what do yah mean? I'm not doin' anything,"

"_That's_ exactly what I mean. You have cancer, and yet you're not doing anything to help it. You're _letting_ it happen—you're letting it kill you. Most people don't do that. I'm not."

Larry's smile grew to his eyes this time. "Miss Piper, that's because you're different than me. You're a young'n; I'm not. I've lived my life already. And besides, since I _know_ I don' need it, I'll be savin' another young'n life like you who _does_ need it." He patted her hand, shrugging. "Simple as that,"

She smiled a little, but sighed. "It still doesn't seem right."

"Oh, darlin', it neva will. But that's okay. This world needs to get used to the change."

Piper couldn't take the way he talked. It was almost as if he were sacrificing himself, and that was probably the second-worst thing she could ever hear. But the first-worst thing she could hear come out of his mouth was the fact that he was saying it calmly, and in which she could understand how right he is. The world did need change, Larry was probably so old that there wasn't exactly much for him to stay for. It told her something, it was teaching her a lesson, and she had a good feeling that it would be the thought of Larry that would help her get along her own challenge against cancer.

She could feel the tears rising in her eyes and she closed them, rubbing them to make them go away. She didn't like crying in front of Larry, she didn't like the pity from him. The only thing she liked to see from him was his warm happiness, almost like the kind Patti gives off.

But he saw it anyways. He chuckled and patted her shoulder. "Miss Piper, there's no reason ta cry over me. I don' want yah wastin' your tears on me. Use 'em for somethin' that'll really need your attention,"

She couldn't help but laugh softly, and after a couple of the tears falling, she wiped them away. "Okay…Okay," she assured him and herself.

He smiled. "Now, do yah mind doin' me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Go over yonder to that drawer over there," he pointed to the small wooden drawer across from his bed. "and take out the CD in it. Do yah mind playin', ah…what was it? Number five, I reckon,"

Piper backed up in her wheelchair and crossed the room to the drawers and pulled open the top one. Inside, there were many little knickknacks. There was a sweatshirt-jacket and on top of it laid two baseball tickets to see the Cincinnati Reds; a cruelly drawn picture of a flower, like it had been done by a seven-year-old, which was sitting under those bead creations where you mold them together under an iron. It, too, resembled a flower; a letter; and a CD with country gospels listed on it.

She took out the CD and raised a brow at Larry. "This?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am,"

Piper nodded and closed the drawer quietly. She went over to the old radio in the corner of the room and clicked in the CD. She pressed the button that read _5_.

A few minutes later, a song played weakly and slowly through the speakers. It seemed almost like a sad, but peaceful song, to her.

"_As I went down to the river to pray, studyin' about that good 'ole way…_"

Piper tilted her head and furrowed a brow. She turned back to Larry, about to ask why he would choose this song, but when she looked at him, his eyes were closed and he was slightly snoring. He had fallen asleep.

Piper nodded and began to wheel herself out of the room, looking at his sleeping figure one last time before exiting room. As she left, she tried not to think about how peaceful he looked.

* * *

Something new was sitting on one of the tables in the library. It was the first thing she found when she first entered.

She wheeled closer to it to get a better look. She found it to be a radio, but it looked newer than the one in Larry's room. It also had a place where you could put your phone and play music from your playlist. Though, that reminded her that her phone was probably crushed from Jason's car.

She winced slightly, but decided not to let that bother her. She tilted her head, wondering who could've put this here. She also wondered if this radio was even for her.

Piper looked around in thought, and her eyes caught on two blue squares on the window behind the table. She narrowed her eyes and wheeled around the table, going up to the window. She narrowed her eyes further on the sticky notes.

On one it read: _I heard_

The second one read: _You liked music._

But what bothered her was that, through the sunlight against the window, it seemed other letters were jumbled up against the words, as if there was something written on the other side. She reached up and plucked them off.

On the back of one sticky note, it read: _Number two—Travel the world._

Suddenly realizing what they were and who they might've come from, she grinned to herself. She didn't have to look on the back of the other sticky note to read what it said.

She also didn't have to wonder why he would've given it to her. She had fed him pieces of information, now he was giving back. And it was true, she _loved_ music, and had been away from it for too long. This was probably the greatest thing anyone could give her to cheer her up. Piper folded up the sticky notes in her palms just as a voice said from nearby: "I believe you owe me an explanation now,"

Piper looked over to find Jason sitting in his wheelchair at the doorway of the library.

He was right. She _did_ have something to tell him. But she still felt that tugging feeling in her gut that she shouldn't tell him _everything_.

Piper nodded. "Well, don't be shy, idiot. Sit yourself down," She grinned.

Jason couldn't help but smile either. Piper saw him touch his side and feel around his ribs, as if he were checking to make sure that there was—or wasn't—something there. He wheeled in and she couldn't help but feel a strange tugging against her own ribs, too. As if something was pulling on her as he approached her.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

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